


Your for the taking

by cookie_book_took



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, CPR, Dark!Steve, Dom/sub, Light Bondage, M/M, Near Death Experience, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Protective Steve, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sub-Drop, Subdrop, Subspace, Thief Bucky, Tied Up Sex, Violence, mafia steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookie_book_took/pseuds/cookie_book_took
Summary: Yours for the taking...mafia steve, adrenaline junkie bucky.Bucky gets more than he bargained for when he steals from Mafia boss Steve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [Nonush86](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonush86)  
> Because I'm stupid I didn't save this somewhere sensible and I didn't name my docs, but finally I have shoved them all back together!!
> 
> I wrote an original based on yours for the taking and submitted to a small press. They requested I take down the fic and I did, but in the end they weren't interested and I ended up self-publishing... Which means I can put the fic back up :)
> 
> Much love to those who enjoy this fic! It was probably the least stressful one to write, and I love the idea of Steve being all dark and dominating. It's positively yummy ;)
> 
> <3

Bucky was running. Flat out. For his life. He had the advantage, the man behind was double his age, not in prime fitness, his panting and rasping travelled the distance between them, but was still too close for Bucky’s liking.

Bucky would’ve lost him, had he not been trying to get his shirt back on, had his shoelaces been done up, and not trying to trip him, had his fly not been open and rubbing painfully on his hard on. There were lots of reasons why he wasn’t sprinting at his most efficient, but he kept going, knowing the old man behind him would have to give up the chase.

The panting and wheezing from behind died down and Bucky’s light footsteps were no longer accompanied by booming ones.  
He sighed in relief, turning around. There were fifty meters between them. The man was hunched over with his hands on his knees. Bucky grinned to himself, dropping to the ground to tie up his trainers. The man glared across the distance, mouth open and gulping for air, no longer the intimidating bull of minutes ago.

“Tell Tracy I’ll see her soon...” Bucky called out.

The man straightened, his lips pulled back into a snarl. Bucky hopped to his feet, ready for round two, but the man waved his hand dismissively and plodded back the way he’d come.

Overprotective father, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t half of the excitement. Tracy was nice, a pretty girl with matchstick legs and plumped up lips. Their rendezvous were mutual, with the added spice of not knowing when her rhinoceros father would return.  
In this case he came back an hour earlier than expected. They’d been in her room fooling around when they heard the door go, when his stomps vibrated the walls of the house.

Bucky had rushed for his clothes, not bothering with his jacket, or his phone that he put on charge-

“He’s here again isn’t he?!”

Rather than be concerned, Tracy pulled the comforter over her body with a sigh and watched the events unfold.

The bedroom door burst open, rage bubbled on her father’s face and he charged at Bucky with his hands out to strangle. With all the grace of Bambi, Bucky hurled himself out the window. The garbage bags softened his fall, but there were rather a lot in the skip and he struggled to get out.

When he finally did, Tracy’s enraged father was there, hurtling down the street after him.  
Now the adrenaline was fading, and Tracy’s dad was a mere dot in the distance, Bucky patted himself down. He was unharmed, may’ve smelled terrible landing on a week’s worth of waste, but apart from that, he was fine.

The smile on his face sagged when he realised he’d left his jacket, not just his jacket but his phone. He growled to the sky, kicking the stray stones on the pavement.

He knew he could sneak his way back, get Tracy to throw it out the window, but he imagined her dad would be keeping vigil at the window, besides he stank and wanted to get home and out of his filthy clothes as soon as possible.

He looked at the dark sky, at least relieved it wasn’t pelting down with rain. As soon as that one positive crossed his mind, a flick of moisture struck his cheek.

“Gotta be kidding me...”

The sky was, in fact, not kidding him. A month’s worth of rain poured down on him as he trudged up the pavement. Rows of houses were packed together each side, he considered knocking on their doors, asking to use their phones, but he wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the area, wasn’t sure what houses he’d been in before, whose father lurked behind the door.

He didn’t want to take the gamble and continued on his way. His brown hair was flat on his forehead, his jeans were damp and aching his calves, with each step his shoes squished out water. The exhilaration of the night had mellowed to emptiness. He was stomping his way home. When he got there he’d microwave some bland meal, fall asleep and waste away his weekend until Monday arrived and he was back at the hardware store.

The only blessings in his life were his good looks, his boyish charm, they kept the boredom at bay, and the seduction of beautiful women was the only real joy in his life. His clothes were dripping, and he gave up avoiding the puddles, splashing from one to the next.

It wasn’t the ending to the night he wanted. In fact, travelling this far away from his dingy apartment had ended with no reward whatsoever.

The traffic lights clicked even though there were no cars, and Bucky dragged his feet as he made his way through the puddles in the road.

The car appeared from nowhere, wheels squealing as it came to a halt. Instinctively he dropped to the ground and rolled on his side, back winded by the impact of the front.

The car door opened and a mantra of ‘shits’ came from the driver.  
Bucky, still dazed and without air in his lungs, didn’t move, didn’t respond. Just lay soaked on the ground.  
The man skipped round the car, hooking Bucky under the armpits and dragged him toward the trunk.

“The fuck?” Bucky mumbled, and the man paused.

“You alive?”

“Yes, I’m fucking alive.”

The man huffed once before dropping Bucky to the floor. His face was scarred, if you had to guess which one had just been hit by the car, it would’ve been him-  
“Get outta here, kid.”

“You were gonna shove me in the trunk?”

The man brushed his hand through his black hair, “Thought you were hurt.”

“Why not phone an ambulance then?!”

“I don’t have time for this.”  
The man stepped over him, climbing into the car.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bucky said, getting to his feet, “give me a ride.”

“No.”

“It’s the least you can do!”

“Fine!” the man announced. Bucky went to get in the passenger seat but the man waved him away, “the back, get in the back.”

He begrudgingly got in the back, at least thankful to be out of the wet.

No sooner had his ass hit the seat, the car was growling down the road, houses and lamplights passing in a blur. The seatbelt did nothing to comfort Bucky, and he resorted to clinging onto the seats in front like an angry cat, hissing like one too.

“Hey, you wanna slow down?”

They took a corner far too fast, and the wheels mounted the pavement.

“You said you wanted a lift kid-

“I never said I wanna die though.”

The man barked a laugh, turning his head, “we all gonna die.”

The man’s eyes were wide, crazed with red splitting lines. It was then that Bucky re-evaluated his life choices; he was sure it was idiotic to get into a car with a stranger, especially when he already knew ‘said stranger’ drove like a lunatic.

“I want out.” He yelled.

The man bobbed his head, “there’s the door, jump it.”

The road was whizzing past so fast his skin was sure to be shredded on impact. He’d be skinned alive if he jumped at that speed.  
“Slow down!”

“No way, you wanna leave, you leave.”  
Bucky thumped his hand down on the man’s shoulder, “I’ll die.”

The man glanced behind, out the rear window of the car.  
“An’ I’ll die if I stop.”

“What, why?”  
The man tilted his head to the passenger seat. A silver case sat on top. Bucky stared at it, trying to realise its relevance.

“Oh god, it’s a bomb.” Bucky gasped, trying to decide whether he’d prefer to be ripped to pieces by the road or blown apart by the device.

“No, it’s not a bomb.”

“What is it then?”  
The man laughed, full on bat-shit crazy laughed, and Bucky leaned away from him.

The adrenaline was bursting in every atom in his body. He should’ve been terrified; he was more than likely going to die. But that drug rushing around his body was making him giddy with the thought. He no longer wanted to leave the car. He wanted to see how this madness was going to end.

“Something of my boss’s....something valuable.”

Before Bucky could question him about the valuable item in the briefcase, a high-pitched ping sounded out.  
For a few seconds nothing happened that suggested anything was wrong. The car still thundered, the rain still pelted on the windscreen, and the man was focussed dead ahead.

Then Bucky saw the small hole in the windscreen, a neat circle in the sheet of glass. The man’s head lolled forward, blood seeping into his lap.

“Shit!” Bucky yelled, leaning as far as the seatbelt would let him and gripping the wheel.

The pedal was still pressed to the floor by the body and Bucky was struggling to direct the car when it was going so fast. He unclipped his belt with one hand, climbing into the front and sitting on the dead man’s lap.

“This is so fucked!” he said to himself, kicking the man’s foot off the pedal and bringing the car under control. It was gross, and he tried to ignore the blood soaking into his own t-shirt where the man’s head rested at his back, he tried not to think about the man he was perched on being warm, only mere seconds ago being alive but now definitely dead.

He did his best not to hyperventilate as he found somewhere to ditch the car, would not turn to face the body behind.

The place he picked was a remote bit of road, no other cars were around, no people lurked and there were no road lamps to show what he was doing.

He slowed the car on the grass verge, almost going too far and stopping in a ditch.

Once the car stopped, he threw himself into the passenger seat, instead of the soft foam he landed on the hard case. The reason the man was dead. It contained something valuable, that’s what he had said.

He opened the door, falling into the ditch in a heap, metal brief case with him. The ground was wet, the ditch filled with a foot or so of muddy water. Brambles stretched from one bank to the other. Bucky went to climb out, but stopped when he heard wheels screeching above.

He slipped back into the ditch, moving as quietly as he could underneath the canopy of thorns. If it was physically possible, he smelled worse than before. It was offensive to his own nose, and he twitched it not to sneeze.  
The sneeze died when he heard car doors slam, voices muttered back and forth.

“It’s not here.” A woman snapped, voice fierce and biting.

“It has to be, Brock took it. It was on the CCTV.”

The woman sighed, “well it’s not in the car is it genius; we can’t exactly ask Brock where he put it can we.”  
The man growled, there was a noise like a bag of sand hitting the road.

“You got him in the head.”

“Course I did.” The woman growled.

“What I mean is how’d he get here?”

They both fell silent, Bucky was overly aware of his thumping heart, of the air stuttering through his nose as he tried not to breathe too loudly. The fear, the anticipation, it shouldn’t have felt this good, but it did. Addictive, the excitement of getting caught had his stomach flipping, his lips vibrating not to let out a laugh.

“Must’ve not killed him straight away...”

“It’s pretty dead on.”

There was a clump of metal and the woman’s spiteful tone was back, “we both saw that only he got in the car, it must’ve took a while for him to die.”

“Whatever...you can phone the boss, I ain’t.”

She huffed, and her heels clomped down the road. Bucky could feel the presence of the other man above, lingering, like a prickly shadow. Bucky got an irrational thought of the movie Predator, where the creature could pick up heat signals in the foliage. He almost squeaked at the idea, but just managed to stop himself.

 

Then the guy sighed, walking dejectedly away from the ditch.

The car left, with squealing wheels and the smell of burnt rubber. Bucky sagged into the water, tension easing from his body.

Even with the people gone, Bucky didn’t get out the ditch; he crawled along it, case going with him as he waded through the mud. Wet, cold and scratched to hell, he managed nearly a mile before thinking that was a good enough distance between him and the car.

He appeared at the side of the road, resembling a swamp monster. When he needed the rain to pour and clean him, it didn’t, it stopped, and he was forced to sluggishly stomp his way up the road, metal case under his armpit.

The thought of what was possibly in the case kept him going. All through the night.

He swung like a pendulum between wanting to hurry home and open the case, to throwing it away and being free of it. It was locked, not just padlocked but code locked.

The man, Brock they called him, had said it was valuable. He was driving away like a lunatic because his boss was after him, or the boss’s men. The man had said something about telling the boss...

In the end, Bucky decided to wait on it. Hide the case for another day. The apartment next to his was in need of refurbishment, mould had stained the ceilings black, damp had spread like blotches in the wall. The floorboards were broken, in some cases torn up. It was the perfect place to hide the case. He slotted it under some loose boards, moving a tattered rug to cover it.

He showered, forced his aching limbs into fresh pants and struggled into a clean t-shirt.  
He sunk into his worn couch, running through the events of the night in wide-eyed disbelief.

Adrenaline from Tracy’s dad was one thing, but that had been on a whole new level. Even after he spent an hour turning into a prune in the shower, he didn’t calm. His heart still thundered. His breathing was still fast, lungs working overtime like he had to be ready to run any second.

Despite that excitement running through his veins, he fell asleep with a happy smile on his face. In the exact same position he had slumped.

He awoke in the morning with added neck ache, as he rolled his head on his shoulders to loosen the knots.  
“Jesus...”

The night before came back in crystal clarity. His reluctance to open the case had vanished. He had to know what was inside.

There was no way he could guess the code, millions of combinations he was too impatient to try.  
He’d force the case open; there were enough tools at work to undo the case---

The knock on the door dragged him from his thoughts. It was tuneful, a joyous beat. Bucky crept over, peeking through the spy hole. He saw a woman, with deep red hair and the same shade of lips. She didn’t look like the normal resident of the block of apartments: she had all her teeth and didn’t look doped up.

“Umm, what do you want?”

She seemed to know he was staring through the spy hole, her lips stretched into a smile showing her pearly whites. She wasn’t even from this side of town by the look of her smile.

“I’m lost; need some help.”

If there was a pretty woman that needed saving, he was sure to offer his services. He unclipped the chain on the door and opened it wide.

“What’s up?”  
Her smile dropped into a scowl, eyes narrowed into slits, and he suddenly realised it was an ever so bad idea to invite this woman into his home.

She shoved his chest and he stumbled back, opening his mouth to protest, but his jaw snapped shut when two suited guys entered the room with her.

“Tony, check the rooms.”

The suited man with the shades did as he was told, except checking the rooms really meant trashing them. Bucky winced at each breaking of glass and snap of wood. He thought better than to argue with them, just stood awkwardly as his apartment was destroyed.  
The red haired woman didn’t break eye contact, glared with enough ferocity to make Bucky feel like a very small bug under her very large boot.

The other man grimaced as he scanned the room, but then his face lightened up when he saw the fridge.

“Don’t mind if I...”  
He addressed the question to Bucky, but it was clear he was going to do what the hell he wanted, anyway.

“Yeah, go for it.”

He smiled, flicked his chin and moved to the fridge, swinging it open and rooting through the contents.  
“You got any bread?”

“Jesus Christ, Clint.” The woman snapped, but he shrugged in response, “was a busy night.”

“You weren’t even there, it was me and Tony.”

He rolled his eyes in response, “bread?” he said again to Bucky.

Bucky smiled tightly, pointing at the loaf on the side, “...right there.”

The dark haired man with the shades and goatee appeared, “nothing in there.”

“Search this room then.”

He bowed his head at the woman, shoulder barging Bucky out the way.

“Yo, where’s the butter?”  
Bucky gawped when he saw his kitchen table covered in an array of foods from cupboards.

“Err...Fridge.”

Clint scrunched his face up, “you keep it in the fridge? How the hell do you make a sandwich?”

“I don’t, I have toast.”

“Whatever man...”  
He turned, busying himself with the concrete like butter.

“There’s nothing here Nat.” The shaded man moaned, scratching the back of his head.

Bucky took a step towards the redhead, “you gonna tell me what this is about?”

She didn’t answer. In the kitchen, Clint clicked his fingers to get Bucky’s attention.  
“This meat? It looks odd...”

He held a packet of chicken up for Bucky to see. The chicken had been in there over a month, Bucky was pretty sure it didn’t start out furry when he bought it...

“Urm, yeah...Romanian recipe.”

Clint smiled, waving the packet to the terrifying woman in the kitchen “Ya know, I thought it was something like that.”

“Tastes good,” Bucky muttered, “bit earthy but adds something new.”

“Where’s the case?” Nat barked.

“I don’t know anything about a case-

She pointed an accusing finger out at him, “you...are lying.”

There was a tense standoff, her fierce eyes intimidating the hell out of Bucky’s blue ones, but he didn’t give anything away Glaring back with his practised confused look. It worked wonders in the hardware shop when he couldn’t be bothered to help a customer.

The pin drop silence was disrupted by the smack of lips and the swallowing of food.

“Jesus Clint.” She yelled.

He wobbled his head in reply, “I was hungry, besides we know what we gotta do.”  
Bucky rocked on his heels, overly aware of the bearded man directly behind him, a terrifying woman in front and a man that was going to experience the worst sandwich-induced-stomach-cramps ever at his side.

All his exits were blocked.

“Come with us willingly, or we’ll drag you out unwillingly.”

Put as bluntly as that, he didn’t have much choice; he nodded his head, “Okaaaay.”

He plodded outside the apartment with the three of them surrounding him and climbed into another car with strangers, all of whom were quite possibly lunatics. Déjà vu had never felt so real.


	2. Chapter 2

 

It’s all fun and games until you’re tied to a chair with a redhead slapping your face. Who was he kidding? It was still fun and games. This was filling his adrenaline addiction better than anything before.

They thought he had the case, and all he had to do was keep denying it, accept being smacked about a bit and they’d let him go, and then he would finally get to see what all the fuss was about.

They had no proof he had taken it; it wasn’t at his apartment. He could get himself out of the situation, sweet talk the raging woman, or so he hoped.

She spun away, stomping her heel to the ground. The floor was concrete, the room the size of an air hanger that bounced every sound like a giant speaker.

The windows were boarded up, graffiti sprayed all over the walls. It was the cliché location to be tortured for information. They even set up a table near enough for him to see and covered it in knives.

When Nat wasn’t hitting him, she was barking questions at him. Demanding the location of the case. He played dumb, repeating over and over that he didn’t have a clue what they were talking about.

“You were seen going into the apartment with it!”

Bucky shrugged, best he could with his arms tied behind his back, “with what?”

“The case, the big silver case.”

He pretended to think, before shaking his head, “nah, don’t know it.”

She slapped him lightning fast, the pain so raw and intense it took Bucky’s breath away. His cheeks were getting puffy, and he could see the red mass of his swollen face creeping up over his eyes.

Clint was groaning in the background, gripping his gut and swaying on his feet. “Jesus, I don’t feel good.”

“Shut up!” Nat roared, for a change not at Bucky, but at the man staggering behind. “You were the idiot who ate the food!”

“I thought it was good, bet it was the butter, no one should keep butter in the fridge.”

Bucky snorted, the guy was questioning the butter rather than the fluffy white chicken he munched down on.

Tony took the glasses off his eyes and tucked them into the top pocket of his jacket, “he’ll be here soon.”

“He won’t be as nice as I’m being.” Nat hissed, prodding Bucky’s stinging cheek with her fingernail.

 

He moved his face away best he could, shaking his head. He planned on playing his trump card before ‘he’ arrived. He straightened up in the chair, giving Nat the best pleading look he could muster.

“Look, I had a case.”

She smiled, all teeth and threatening, “Knew it.”

“The case is from my work, has tools in...”

Her hand swung back to strike him, but Tony coughed awkwardly and she stopped.  
“There were some tool cases there...drills and that.”

Bucky nodded along before regretting the movement instantly when the room started spinning.

“You’re telling me this now.” Nat spat.

“I didn’t put two and two together...”

She shoved Tony in the chest and he stumbled, “until this moment, when he’s gonna be here any second!”

“Look I’m sorry.”

“We’re dead.” Clint croaked, bracing himself over the cutlery table.

“You’re not helping.” Nat yelled his way.

Bucky coughed, rolled his aching shoulders and addressed the woman, “now you know I got nothing to do with this, you can let me go.”

“Like hell! I might not be able to blame you for the case, but I can beat you for killing one of our own.”

Bucky frowned, wobbling his head, “what?”

“Him.” She pointed her finger at the pale looking Clint.

“’m not gonna die, am I?” Clint murmured.

The three of them started arguing, shoving at each other and growling out their words. Bucky just sat watching with a smile, in his messed up state he was seeing double, six people all roughing each other up.

 

A door opened behind and the three arguing fell silent, backed away from each other and stood to attention.

Bucky couldn’t turn to see the mystery person, could only hear the slap of leather shoes on the concrete floor. The sound bounced around the space, puncturing the silence like gun shots. He felt the odd prickle of nervousness at the back of his neck and shuffled in the chair.

The steps stopped, Bucky waited for someone to speak, for the person behind to announce themselves but they didn’t.  
The three had frozen, all wide-eyed and mouths flapping. Although the person behind didn’t speak, there must’ve been a visual cue because Nat started blurting her words.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t got it.”

The pat of shoes started again, came closer, stopping directly behind where Bucky sat. A hand gripped onto his shoulder, squeezing and wrinkling up his t-shirt. The grip was strong, to the point it ground Bucky’s bones, made him want to shout out. He didn’t, the atmosphere around this person had even him keeping his mouth firmly shut.

Nat shook her head, “my mistake...I thought-I thought he’d taken it.”

All their confidence of moments ago seeped out of the room, and although Bucky couldn’t see who was behind him, he felt the power of the presence, the strength they possessed.

Bucky’s heart was drumming away, the force of each beat jerking his body and no doubt the person attached to his shoulder could feel it. It wasn’t fear though, pure excitement at what was going to happen next.

The room was still, not even Clint was groaning or murmuring, although sweat was bubbling on his forehead. They were all waiting for what was to about to happen. The person commanded the room without speech, without movement, only their lingering stance and their stare.

Not that Bucky could see it; he was directly behind, not to mention his vision had been trance-like with colourful blotches for the last ten minutes.

Bucky tilted his head, the swelling on his face had swamped his eyes, he could only see through slits of his skin, but he looked at the hand on him, no

longer squeezing down to the bone but resting.  
The size and the fact it was marred by white scar lines told him it was, indeed, a man. The heat from the palm soaked into Bucky’s body, heavy and grounding, it stopped him from floating into the land of unconsciousness.

The pain on his scalp was sudden, head being tugged back by his hair. He faced the ceiling, the yellow lamp above him burning the last resilient part of his sight. He scrunched his lids tight, saving his eyes from the glare.

The hand on his shoulder had gone, but there was tightness pulling at his strands, bending him back and exposing his throat. The prick to his neck made him flinch, grounding both his hands into fists and keeping as still as he could.

It was a very clear threat from the man, no words needed, just his neck forcefully exposed and the cool edge of a blade resting by his jugular.

It was the moment he should have confessed, blurted to the heavens that he had the case to spare his life, sob that he didn’t want to die, but he matched the man’s silence with his own. His own acceptance of the situation. He waited.  
The pressure of the knife vanished, but the fingers in his hair remained, pinching the strands. His lips pulled back to hiss but he stopped himself by chomping his tongue. He wouldn’t be the one to break the atmosphere.

Bucky jerked at the feeling on his neck, not the quick slice he was expecting, but soft, a tickling on his skin. There were fingers on him, following the lines of his throat, ghosting over his flesh. He wasn’t going to use a knife, he was going to strangle him to death, or break his neck, there was no question this man was strong and ruthless enough to do it. Except the fingers didn’t tighten or grab at him, but moved slowly over his skin. The feeling was almost hypnotic, and the effect was immediate, his flesh broke out in goosebumps, rushing from his body down to his toes in a wave of shivers.

The pads of the man’s fingertips moved to his jaw, following the sharp angle from his ear to his chin. Bucky couldn’t see, there was no sound, his whole focus was on touch, the softness on his jaw in contrast to the throbbing in his cheeks.

The fingers stopped at his chin, thumb pressing down on the dimple there. Firm enough for his lips to pop open.  
A breath that sounded closer to a pant breezed through Bucky’s lips. Fingers were cupping his chin, a thumb running along his bottom lip. It was such a small stimulus, but in a room full of silence, face stinging with fire, the touch was making him crazy, making his toes curl in his shoes and his fists flex at his back.

It was feather light, more tickly than anything, but it made him pant like a thirsty dog. There was still a forceful grip on the back of his head, and fingers hooking his chin, leaving his head dominated. Completely at the man’s mercy and Bucky bloody loved it.

The thumb pressed firmer, plumping Bucky’s lip out and rubbing along the moist flesh inside. Bucky was panting, opened mouthed panting along the man’s thumb. It was mortifying that these small touches were affecting him that way, but he couldn’t help it. No one could see his embarrassing flushed cheeks with the red marks on his skin. That was at least one good thing about being slapped repeatedly in the face.

Whatever was going on was between him and the man. The others in the room were no doubt watching, but they probably believed his panting and heaving chest were from fear. The man and he knew it wasn’t. He was pretty sure the man could probably see his pulse jackhammering in his neck, could see the skin on his arms had pimpled. Even

more obvious than the desperate gasps of air, and his body being rattled by shivers, was the bulge in his pants. Standing to attention like a flagpole because a guy was fondling his lip....

So much for hiding his reaction, all of them in the room probably had a good view of his straining cock in his pants...  
The pinch to his hair lessened, the fingers burrowed their way through his strands, nails barely catching his scalp. It made him shiver; he swallowed, shifting in his seat trying to distract himself so he didn’t moan.

It didn’t just feel good, it felt bloody amazing and dizzying and disorientating. The man wasn’t even doing anything, his touches weren’t even sexual, but they were having that effect on Bucky.

His tongue met the digit in his mouth, pushed on it gently and the thumb pressed back.  
More humiliating than getting turned on was moaning softly at that small contact, the man reacting to something he did. That was exactly what Bucky did, a soft little whine, one that was more likely felt than heard. Bucky nudged with his tongue again, needing that response. The communication between them, whatever the hell it was.

The man didn’t press back. Before disappointment could even register, his head was aggressively shoved forward. The hand caressing him vanished, the gaps the fingers made in his hair cooled. The pressure on his skin where he’d been handled softened to nothing, his body felt numb after being burning with fire only seconds ago.

Footsteps slapped on the concrete again, but this time they faded away from Bucky. The door screeched when it opened, and it whined slower as it closed, blocking the sound of the retreating footsteps from Bucky’s ears.  
What the bloody hell was that? And more importantly, who the hell was that? Unconsciousness stole him away, and he sighed into it.

They let him go. He should’ve felt relieved to be back at his apartment after coming so close to being murdered, but all he felt was expanding emptiness.  
The high depleting after the adrenaline hit.

He hissed when he pressed peas to his face, but after persevering for a few seconds he could tolerate the pain.  
He threw himself down on the couch, laying on his back and facing the ceiling. The bag of peas was balanced on his face, numbing it all over, including his still-tingling lips.

 

He awoke when the warmed bag of peas tumbled to the floor. The swelling had lessened, it still hurt like a bitch but he could see again.

He stood in front of the mirror with an unhinged jaw. He looked pretty damn awful, both eyes sporting purple patches and cheeks puffing. Sam was not going to be happy when he rolled into work.

There was no mark on his neck where the blade had pressed, no finger stepping-stones across his flesh, no split skin on his scalp. And as strange as it was, it was disappointing not to have some mark from that moment. Nat’s marks were clear all over his face, but the man’s....there was no evidence it had even happened. As Bucky glared at his own reflection, he started to doubt the memory. His head had been spinning; it might well have been a hallucination...

He wasn’t gay, he loved women, not men...it must’ve been some messed up dream between consciousness and unconsciousness, that’s what he tried to blame it on...but when he touched his lip, his breath hitched, body exploding with shivers at the memory of his thumb there, rubbing gently.

“What the fuck.” He yelled at himself before stomping away.

As expected when he turned up for work, Sam spotted him a mile away.  
“What in heavenly fuck happened to you?”

Bucky waved the attention of, “looks worse than it is.”

Sam studied his face intently, “well it looks pretty damn bad, that girl’s dad got ya?”

It was far easier to nod than explain everything else that happened that night, “yeah, he got me...”

“The round dude, double your age...the one with asthma...he did that?”

Bucky shrugged, “he was quicker...faster...fitter than I thought.”

“Well hell...I can’t have you in the front today, not looking like that, out the back with ya, and take it easy yeah?”

Sam walked away shaking his head, muttering something like ‘stupid kid’ under his breath.

Bucky’s week passed, as boring and mind numbing as ever. The memory of the guy plagued him, and he often found himself playing with his bottom lip where the man had touched. The playlist of women in his head that he kept for releasing himself in the night didn’t work, but as soon as he thought about the hand in his hair, the fingers on his neck and the thumb in his mouth, he erupted in his hand, more confused than ever.

The second week after that night, Bucky was feeling more like his flirtatious self again. Sam let him help up front, his bruised face got attention from passers-by and women flocked to ask if he was alright, to get the gossip of what happened to him. He didn’t tell them the truth, and he didn’t tell them the lie he told Sam. He came up with something far more beneficial.

“So you saved the kitten from those thugs?”

Bucky nodded solemnly, staring deep into the brunette’s fluttering eyes. She had come in to buy a paint brush, was leaving with several pots, brushes and a roller...along with Bucky’s heroic story that was bound to draw more people to the shop.

“Yeah...y’know I had to do something. It was crying out for me..”

She awwed before nodding, “How many were there...”

Bucky blinked in quick succession, “um…um there was one kitten.”

“No, how many thugs?”

“Oh. Four there were four...one redhead, one bearded dude, one geeky looking one and...”

He trailed off, not knowing what to say for the last one.

“You against four?”

He turned from her concerned gaze, “yeah...hence the face.”  
She reached out and cupped his jaw, running her fingers along. There was nothing, no rush of sensation or adrenaline, the touch was flat and he backed away.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “didn’t mean to hurt ya.”

He shook his head, “you didn’t...it’s-it’s...”

“Here-here’s my number...you ever wanna talk about what happened, call me.”

Bucky took it, shoved it into his pocket with a forced thanks. He wanted to get laid, not engage in therapy sessions.

He helped her load her car, even stood and waved her off. As soon as her car vanished, his smile dropped off his face.  
He stood in the car park, sighing at the sky when a shiver ran up his spine. The familiar feeling of being watched.

He spun on the spot, fixing his attention to the black car parked by the road. It was expensive, shiny without a blemish. All the windows were blacked out and the second Bucky took a step towards it, the engine started and it drove off.

It was those people...had to be, but why were they still watching him? He didn’t have what they wanted...

He laughed, turning full on hysterical. He dropped to his knees, tiny stones digging into his skin but he didn’t care. He did have what they were looking for. Caught up with the memory of that man touching him, he had completely forgotten why he was there in the first place. Forgot about the crazy car ride and the guy that got shot, forgot about dragging himself through a ditch with a huge case. The case that was hidden in the abandoned apartment next to his.

He walked back into the shop with a dazed smile.

“You got her number then?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at Bucky’s odd expression.

“What? Yeah, yeah I got it.”

“Like the fourth girl this week, you’re only just twenty and you slay the ladies like you were made to do it.”

Sam bobbed his head with a laugh, though concern cut wrinkles in his face when Bucky didn’t say more.  
“You okay? She doesn’t have a crazy-assed dad too right?”

Bucky shook his head to dispel the rising excitement, “no...um, Sam, can I borrow some bolt cutters?”

The other man narrowed his eyes, “You ain’t gonna break through her window right?”

“No, not breaking no windows...”

 


	3. Chapter 3

He walked home with giddy excitement, an array of bolt cutters tucked away in his bag. The possibilities of what was in the case whizzed around his head, but above all, he hoped for money.

He saw the car a mile off, no one could afford a luxury vehicle like that in the area, and he was surprised they had even risked parking it in such a rough part of town. This time when he walked towards it, the engine didn’t purr with life; it stayed silent.

The driver’s window was wound down and there was the brunette with the shades and facial hair tapping idly on the steering wheel.

Bucky stooped down at his window, “You want something?”

Tony bunched his lips before answering, “besides the obvious...no.”

“Coffee?” Bucky asked, flicking his chin out to the back seat, “anything for him?”

Tony glanced behind him, “who the invisible man? No one in here but me...”

Bucky straightened, “whatever.”  
He moved to the doors of the apartments and they flew open, narrowly missing his face. Clint was there, his eyebrows shot to his hairline when he saw Bucky.

“Don’t worry, steered clear of your food this time.”

“You’ve been at my apartment again?” Bucky mumbled.

Clint bowed his head, “have fun clearing the mess.”

Bucky stood stomping his foot on the ground as Clint got into the car. He expected them to drive away, but they didn’t. They both grinned towards him.  
“Utter morons.” Bucky hissed.

He wasn’t lying about the apartment being a mess; they had literally torn the place apart. Before anger could consume him over his smashed up home, he moved to the window, cracked it open and perched on the ledge.

“Find anything?” he called, knowing full well they hadn’t.

Tony poked his head out the window and flipped him the bird.

“Same to you.” Bucky yelled, before slamming the window shut and assessing the damage.

Nothing in the place was worth anything, all second hand furniture and cheap stuff. His bedroom had been stripped, mattress split with a blade to get to the insides. Clothing was strewn all over the place. The more Bucky stared at his items, the more he frowned. There were pants, shirts, jackets, socks, but all of his underwear was gone.

“What the hell?”

He searched through the heaped piles, finding none at all. He stomped into the living room to find the laundry basket. Even his dirty ones had vanished.

He went back to the window to demand his underwear back, but the car had gone. Bucky looked up and down the street just to be sure and ducked back inside.

It was time to find out what was in the mystery box...

He crept out into the corridor, moving to the abandoned apartment. No lock on the door, he shoved it and it creaked open. The first thing that registered about the room was the smell, damp and musky, he wrinkled his nose as he went inside, closing the door softly behind.

He tugged the case out from beneath the floorboards, and ran his finger along the seams. The bolt cutters would struggle with the armoured lock, but the hinges looked weaker in comparison.  
It wasn’t easy, took a few hours with very little progress before the cutters started getting a good grip.

One hinge severed, he went for the other.

A ball of excitement tumbled round his insides, gaining momentum. This was more exciting than every Christmas and birthday put together, the most anticipated present. One that was going to change his life.  
The hinge clunked, Bucky prised the case open like a clam, the front buckled and bent and he was inside, about to lay eyes on what he hoped was money, diamonds, even drugs, but as soon as he set eyes on the contents, the ball of excitement morphed to tumble weed and rolled away.

A painting, not even a nice painting, the blandest one Bucky could imagine, dark lines and squares of colour. It had to be a joke, there was no value on a picture a kindergartener could’ve done.

The treasured item in the case was a hoax, at least if it had been the painting with the dogs playing poker he would’ve laughed, nodded approvingly at the sceptical, but not this, this was awful.  
He huffed, sliding the painting back into the twisted case and shoving it under the floorboards. Never in the history of mankind had someone been so completely disappointed. Bitterly, Bucky thought he would’ve preferred the damn thing to be empty than contain such a poor piece of art. The excitement, anticipation and rush, all dissolved with the biggest anti-climax of all time.

 

The next day he walked to work with dragging feet, eyes to the floor as he made his way up the pavement. He lifted his head when he knew he was close, eyes going wide when he saw the cars parked outside the store.  
Not just one blacked out car but three. He started running, sprinting to the door in record time.

“Sam?!”

His boss turned at the desperate shout of his name, but instead of smiling like he usually did, he looked pissed.  
“Whose daughters have you been messing with?”

Sam and the other workers were gathered at one end of the store, Bucky spied suited men making their way up and down the aisles.

“Well?”

He dragged his attention back to Sam, “I’m sorry.”

“They make a mess of this place, you’ll clean it up, you understand.”

He nodded along, unable to look Sam in the eye when he was glaring at him like that.

A cough had him spinning around. Tony was there again, flicking his head so Bucky would follow.  
“What the hell are you doing here?”

Tony smiled, a laugh mumbled through his closed lips and he smacked Bucky on the shoulder.  
“Haven’t found that case, have we...”

“Not my problem.” Bucky hissed.

“We’re just checking it didn’t find its way here...and the boss wanted me to get a few bits.”

Tony grabbed a basket and shoved it to Bucky’s chest, “customer service and all that...”

Bucky swung it by the handle, “fine...just don’t go trashing the place.”

Tony pursed his lips and nodded, “deal.”

“What does your boss need then...”

Tony ducked and weaved his head, before pointing down an aisle, “over there.”

Bucky led him to the place he pointed, “your boss wants paint...white paint?”

Tony hummed at the tins, banging the tops like drums, “good for painting over the blood.”

“Why not just use red and be done with it...”

Tony gripped his shoulder, “where’s the fun in that? What we do to people is art.”

Bucky ignored him, grabbed a tin and placed it in the basket.

“No, no, no.....not that one.”

“Which one then?”

Tony pouted his lip and pointed to the sky, “one at the top.”

“It’s the exact same paint-

“He wants the one at the top...play nice and we won’t trash the store.”

Bucky stomped his way to the ladder, pulling it along so he could climb to the top pots of paint.

“Bit dangerous, stacking them like that, what if they fell?” Tony chirped, tapping the bottom of the ladder with his foot. Bucky gripped on extra tight, not wanting to slip and fall on his ass.

“Don’t tempt me to drop one.”

Tony wagged his finger up at him, “play nice.”

Bucky gripped a pot, “this one do?”

“Nah, one right at the back...”

Bucky leaned right over, reaching for the furthest one. He’d just gripped the handle when a snap sounded out from behind him.  
Tony was holding his phone up, taking pictures of him bent over the top shelf of paint.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bucky growled.

“Getting what the boss asked for, a picture of you offering yourself.”

Bucky stomped his way down the steps, “he asked you to take all my underwear too?”

Tony shrugged, “He likes the thought of you commando...What the boss wants, the boss gets.”

“He’s sick.” Bucky hissed.

“Sick? You’re the one that got stiff when the boss touched your precious hair...”

The bruises had faded from his face and he could no longer hide his embarrassment under the slap marks. He was pretty damn sure Tony could feel the heat pouring out of him.

Tony chuckled, fanning himself, “yeah, we all saw that.”

Too mortified to reply, Bucky glared a hole into the floor, maybe if he could make it big enough, he could hide in it...

“Well nice seeing you...” Tony leaned in, reading the badge on Bucky’s chest. The glasses were there, hanging from an arm in Tony’s top pocket, it was too easy to take them from the gloating man--

“James...we’ll be in touch.”

“I’d rather you weren’t.”

Tony clicked his fingers and the hovering suits left the store. Bucky followed Tony out, glasses hidden behind his back.  
Two of the black cars disappeared, leaving the one destined for Tony to get into.

The cocky man waved when he opened the door, with him momentarily distracted Bucky pulled the glasses from his back, twirled them in his hand and waited to see how long it would take for Tony to realise they were his own.

A rather long time, Tony kept smirking back at him, wrinkle denting his brow as he grew more confused at Bucky not disappearing into the store.

Then realisation struck, and his eyes went wide, hand moved to pat at his pocket. It was Bucky’s turn to grin like a smug bastard; he wore the expression like he owned it.

With Tony still too stunned to react, Bucky dropped the shades to the floor and promptly stamped on them.

Anger exploded on Tony’s face, his lips pulled back, his eyes went wide and glassy. Before he could climb back out from the car and throttle Bucky, a hand shot from the back seat.  
It grabbed Tony’s shoulder, and he immediately went limp, like a scruff of a pup he sank back into the seat under someone else’s wishes.

Bucky knew it was him, the man was there. In complete darkness in the back seat. All Bucky could see was his scar-marred hand, pinning Tony to the seat, but the knowledge he was there had him staggering back as if pushed. The air around him felt hot, body tight and tingling. He stared into the back of the car, knowing that man was staring back, looking him up and down. He resisted every urge in his body not to touch his lip, not to pick at the skin while the man’s eyes were on him.

A mask of indifference descended over Tony’s face, he slotted his seatbelt into position, started the car and drove away without looking at Bucky or his shattered glasses once.

Only when the car had faded into the distance, could Bucky breathe again. He staggered more steps back till his back hit the wall and slid down to the floor.  
He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it up with a growl. What the hell was wrong with him?

 

When he went back into the store, Sam was waiting, tapping his foot on the floor.

“What have you got yourself involved in?” Bucky waved his hand, making to walk around Sam but was blocked by his arm, “Bucky?”

“They thought I’d stolen something from them-

“Have you? Are you mad?!”  
Sam had a hand on each of Bucky’s shoulders, was shaking him, growing more hysterical the longer Bucky took to speak.

“N-no, they got it wrong.”

“They’re not the type of people you wanna be involved with.”

“Well, ‘m not, no need to worry.”

Sam did look worried, and didn’t look convinced, “you in trouble, you need to tell me and I’ll try help.”

Bucky grabbed the wrists of the arms on him, squeezing so they’d let go. “Everything’s fine.”

He moved off down the store, distancing himself from the rest of the staff and any customers. Things were definitely not fine, but he had no idea what was wrong either.

 

Bucky spent the night in the abandoned apartment, staring daggers at the painting. He knew nothing about art, wouldn’t have a clue what this piece was called, or whether it was famous. The design wasn’t n’t exactly difficult, he could probably draw a few bold lines and put a square of red on canvas.

Art, art was a joke.

He didn’t know a thing about art, but he knew someone that did. He prodded his phone, bringing a name up.  
“Hey, Sasha, haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

Silence was her reply and Bucky sighed, “you there?”

“I’m here, what do you want Bucky?”

“Thought I’d come see how you’re doing...”

“I’m fine, I have a boyfriend now.”

Bucky bobbed his head, before remembering she couldn’t see him down the phone, “yeah that’s great-

“Means I’m not interested in that.”

“I needed some help with art actually.”

She sighed, “I’m not posing for you, I’m not going to practise my brush stroke on you, or whatever other innuendo you’re planning on saying.”

Bucky scrunched his brow, he was far better at pickup lines than that...  
“No seriously...I want to know about a piece.”

She hummed unimpressed, “what piece?”

The painting in front didn’t have a tag on it, didn’t have a signature as far as he could tell.

“It’s got black lines...a big red box and smaller blue and yellow ones.”

“Is it a Mondrian?”

Bucky sounded out the word, staring at the painting. He had no idea.  
“Umm, maybe? Is it-is it valuable?”

“Do you not watch the news?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, he had a TV once, but it quickly got stolen from the apartment, he didn’t bother trying to get a new one after that.

“The painting was stolen.”

“Stolen...is- is it worth a lot?”

Sasha blew a breath down the phone, “I’d say so...think it sold for 50 million.”

Bucky steadied his trembling arm with his other, not wanting to drop the phone.  
“50 million?”

“That’s what it sold for...it’s been stolen though, think the reward money is 10 million, it’s going up though.”

Bucky’s trembling arm gave way, and he dropped the phone. It clattered on the floorboards, Sasha’s voice was calling out for him, but he didn’t care.

He stared at the painting with new eyes; it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He was tempted to kiss it, thought better of it and did a happy dance around the room.

Rich, he was rich.

 

The black car returned next morning, Tony and Clint grinned like buffoons when he stopped at their window.

“I’m going to the shop...anything you want before you raid the fridge?”

Tony didn’t answer, just glared like he was hoping Bucky would burst into flames. Clint shifted in his seat though, mouth open to offer suggestions but Tony cut off his reply by closing the window.

It was the weekend and Bucky was not in fact going to the shop, but off to visit Sasha at college. As he walked along the pavement, the car rolled next to him at snail-pace.  
He ignored its presence, getting to the college gates and giving the car a patronising wave. They had little chance keeping eyes on him in a place like that, and soon enough he disappeared into the pack of students.

Their intimidating loitering wasn’t working, and soon enough they would step up their game to see if he had the case. Kidnap him again and torture him for information.  
As much as he wanted the adrenaline, he didn’t want to be tortured all that much, being slapped in the face was one thing, but he was sure they were capable of far worse feats.

“Hey Sasha...”

She stroked her fingers through her blond hair, puffed out her breasts so they were at maximum display, “Told you, got a boyfriend...”

“Not here for that.”

He frowned at the words so foreign in his mouth and shook the distracting thought away, “here about the lines and squares.”

“The Mondrian.”

“Yeah that, thought you could tell me about it, a bit.”

She nodded, getting to her feet. She ruffled her hair and Bucky breathed in the artificial flowers of her shampoo. It did nothing, there was no stirring at her delicate fragrance, her boobs, although he was staring at them, didn’t fill his mouth with saliva. Something was wrong.  
Sasha wound her hair round her finger, pouting her red lips, “said I have a boyfriend...we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Umm, doing what...I just want you to tell me about the painting.”

She shook her head with a smile that was full on seduction, “you wanna paint stripes on my body?”

Bucky laughed, not out of spite, but impressed, “you getting better at that...but really, I wanna know about the painting.”

She stared at him, and he stared back, growing uncomfortable at the awkward standoff.

“So um....where was it stolen from?”

She didn’t answer, she turned, logging on to one of the computers and pulled up a page, “that should answer your questions.”

“Thanks Sasha.”

Bucky ignored her over the top walk off and got to work.  
He had the potential of being a millionaire, only had to get the painting back to wherever the hell it had come from.

Sneaking the case into the abandoned apartment was easy, getting it out again wasn’t. They were suspicious of him, always watching, waiting for him to slip up and either confess or lead them to it.

This situation was far too exciting to turn away from, more heart thumping and stomach flipping than he thought ever possible.

Never one to turn down some excitement, Bucky had a plan. The painting wasn’t exactly intricate, it was easy to replicate. He was going to make a decoy, hand it over and once the suits left him alone, he was flying with the real painting to the gallery and claiming that reward money.

Opening that case, seeing the treasure it held within, was far more exhilarating than any Christmas and birthday present.

 


	4. Chapter 4

He measured the Mondrian to the nearest micrometre. Jotting down notes and shoving them in his pocket. Painting the damn thing wasn’t going to be the problem, making it look ancient was. Luckily, Bucky got bored easily, and he’d spent a lot of mind-numbing days at work messing around with the unsavoury products, melting this, discolouring that. He had access to chemicals that could age the piece.

The computer had given him some ideas on how to do it and he experimented on a few bits of canvas until it was right. He charmed most of the art students; they offered their equipment for him to use. He flirted with the teacher so she’d allow him to stay in the class. Everything was going to plan.

Tony and Clint lost him in the college, had no idea which way he turned, which room he was concealing himself in. The dark room was perfect for keeping the picture when he wasn’t working on it.

All in all, when he finished the forgery, it was just about the most amazing thing he’d ever done. Sasha had been impressed, gushing how it looked exactly like the original. He used to love her complimenting his skills in the bedroom but this praise made him puff up with pride and nod with the biggest grin smacked to his face.

“Looks good don’t it.”

She nodded her head, “yeah, for the hundredth time, it looks good...but-but why?”

He shrugged, “you talking about all that art stuff, rubbed off on me, thought I’d start simple.”

“Y’know, I’ve broken it off with my boyfriend...”

Bucky was too distracted admiring his painting, but when she started staring at the side of his face, he hummed himself back to attention.  
“That-that’s great....hope you two are happy together.”

She gawped, stuttered on her words before stomping away.

The painting was 99% perfect...it just smelled all wrong, like fresh paint and vinegar. He needed it to smell old, dusty, stale. He needed it to smell exactly like the apartment the real one was hidden in.

Bucky stumbled down the stairs, spying the car he had become familiar with. When he jogged over to it to engage in food-related conversation with Clint, he noticed both he and Tony were wearing stoned faced expressions, staring dead ahead.

“Interesting night?”

Neither replied, Tony didn’t even hiss towards him like every day before. Bucky straightened, tapping the blacked out window of the back.

“He-he in there today?”

He hated that his voice stuttered, would’ve loved to punch himself in the mouth for sounding so weak. The window didn’t open, and the men in the front of the car didn’t speak. Bucky stared at his reflected face, wondering what the person looked like on the other side.

“I don’t have your painting okay. You got to stop stalking me.”

The window started to lower. Bucky stumbled back, knocking his heels on the curb. He was finally going to set his eyes on Tony and Clint’s boss.

“Told ya it would work.” Clint chirped.

Bucky ducked his head to see the empty back seat, “wha-

Tony clicked his fingers to get Bucky’s attention, “who said it was a painting we were looking for...”

Well he’d just monumentally fucked up. He gawped like a fish, flexing his toes in his trainers and readying himself for the run of his life.

“You run I’ll shoot you.”  
Tony looked deadly serious, in fact, he smiled at the thought.

“You kill me and you won’t find it-

“Never said I was gonna kill you, take out your legs though...”

Clint leaned over Tony’s lap, “just show us where it is, it was fun while it lasted, but we know you’ve got it now.”

Clint was smiling, bobbing his head encouragingly; Tony sat with his face bunched and arms  crossed. Good cop verses bad cop.  
Bucky breathed deep through his nose, expanding his lungs to their maximum before nodding.

He gripped the handle of the car, slipping inside. Both the men in the front wore identical wide-eyed expressions.

“What?” Bucky blurted.

Tony started the car, but Clint twisted to look at him. “Didn’t think you’d give in like that?”

Bucky shrugged, plastering a look of resignation on his face, “like ya said, fun while it lasted.”

“Yeaaaaah....guess so.”  
Bucky shuffled back into the leather seat, sighing to the roof.

“So where is it?”

“The college, art room.”

They all fell into reflective silence as the car bumped along. The adrenaline was building in Bucky’s veins. His painting skills were about to be put to the test.

Clint and Tony followed him into the art room, where their presence was met with concerned frowns.

“Best you all leave.” Tony said, the smile he wore was anything but reassuring. It had the desired effect, the students fled from the room, leaving their stuff all over the desks. Even the teacher, Mrs Biggs, gave Bucky a tight smile before leaving.

“It’s in here.”

Bucky led them to the dark room, retrieving the painting and handing it to Tony.

He stared at it, analysing the detail. Bucky’s heart was bordering a cardiac arrest, and he didn’t dare take a breath.

“Good.” Tony said finally.

It had worked, they had been fooled.

“There, you got it, now we all go about our lives and forget each other.”

Tony shook his head, “what the boss wants, the boss gets...”

“There, he’s got it-

Clint hissed through his teeth, “that’s the thing, he doesn’t just want the painting.”

Bucky shifted on his feet, subtly scoping out the exits. They were on the first floor, but from experience he could successfully jump from the window, the landing was a grass verge, less smelly than a stack of garbage.  
“What does he want then?”

Both Clint and Tony glanced at each other before smirking, “he want’s revenge on the guy that took it.”

“You got it....you shot him in the head.”

Tony lifted his shoulders and dropped them, “okay, he wants revenge on the second person to steal it.”

Before he could take a step away, Clint had a gun on him. He did point it with a sympathetic expression though, unlike Tony that had bloodlust in his eyes.

“We’re going to go for a drive.” Tony growled, flicking his head for Bucky to leave the room.

He thought about running, but didn’t fancy his kneecaps being busted. He walked, slotting himself back into the car while Tony put the painting in the trunk.

“Look, you got the painting, you could just let me go...”

Clint hummed sadly, “wish I could, but that wouldn’t go down too well.”

“I stopped putting butter in the fridge...for you.”

He smiled tightly in reply, “that was a nice touch, but it’s still a no.”

Tony climbed in, glaring at Clint as he did.

“Why is he still talkin’?”

Clint turned his attention back to Bucky, “take a real big breath in, let it out slow.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

He did, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. The gun went off, a stinging started in his thigh and he cupped the wound.  
“What the hel...”  
He trailed off, swaying in the seat and collapsing on his side, “night, night.” Clint chirped, and the world turned to black.

 

He woke with a shiver, whole body feeling ice cold. He couldn’t see, scratchy material was over his eyes, but that was the least of his problems. His hands were tied above his head, arms at full stretch and toes only just touching the floor. He was strung out, body straining and aching at the uncomfortable position.

“Oh, you’re awake?”  
It was the woman, the redhead, he recognised her voice from before.

“What---where am I?”

“That’s not important, what’s going to happen next is…”

Bucky tried to roll his shoulders but gave up, everything ached, body at full stretch. The air was cold in his lungs, uncomfortable in his throat. He pressed his lips together and breathed in and out through his nose to spare himself from the chill, it didn’t work. He was freezing, whole body trembling to try to stay warm. His skin was cold, but his muscles were on fire, the opposing sensations were messing with his head.

The repetitive noise of a phone chirped, Bucky cocked his head at the sound, it was to his right, and the clomping of heels headed towards it.

“He’s awake...yeah...yeah...we took his clothes off like you asked.”

Shit, he was naked, that was why he was so god-damn cold. He was hung up like a piece of meat-  
“I’m in a meat freezer aren’t I?”

Nat came back towards him, stopping at his side.  
“Very good.” she whispered, “Not used anymore, but it keeps the cold well.”

Nat’s heels stomped along the hard floor, getting fainter till they disappeared altogether. He yelled out for someone else, if he had to pick one of them he would choose Clint for company.

No one replied, he was left hanging, trembling from over excursion. He tilted his head side to side, trying to lift the blindfold from his face but it wouldn’t budge.

Hung out like meat, he was anticipating a beating...maybe a few broken ribs, bruises and he’d probably be walking with a stoop for the foreseeable future, but he could cope with all that, if he got away and got that money.

“Did it hurt?”

Bucky jerked, slipping on his tiptoes. The voice was deep, vibrated in the marrow of his bones, made his heart jump to his throat. He regained his footing and waited for the voice to speak again.

“Did. It. Hurt?”

The voice had the same vibrating effect, making him shudder. The hair on his nape rose, all along his arms too.

Bucky frowned beneath his blindfold trying to remember what the voice had asked him, “wh-what? when?”

“When you fell from heaven.”

He wanted to laugh, to wrinkle his nose, but the man’s voice was flat, not flirty in tone or light from amusement. It was down-right sinister.  
“What-what the hell are you talking about?”

Bucky tilted his head to follow the footsteps round the room. The clomping of shoes, landing heavily on the floor. There was no rush to the pace; they were the slow plods of doom echoing around him. The man sounded like a giant the way he was walking, and the way he made Bucky feel an inch tall.

“Does your left eye hurt?” The voice asked.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His head just span with confusion, body quivered painfully-

“Cause you’ve been looking right all day.”

The footsteps stopped, the man with the gravelly voice was standing in front of him. Bucky could practically feel his breath on his naked body. Even with the blindfold blocking their eye contact, he still felt the need to duck his head away, not stare at the man head on.

“Look, I’m sorry, it all happened so fast. I panicked and took the case.”

He snapped his mouth shut at the creak of a cracking neck.  
“And my personal favourite...I’m not staring at your tits...I’m staring at your heart...”

Bucky shook his head, “why, why are you saying pickup lines?”

“They’re yours right? Tried and tested...”

That did seem like the kind of rubbish things he would come out with when flirting-

“And they’re just the ones from this week.” The voice mumbled.

“Okay, I get it...you’re pissed I stole the painting, but you got it back now.”

The man didn’t speak. The silence lingered, Bucky even held his breath just to hear the sound of him in the room. There were no small puffs of breath, no whistling of air going through his nostrils. He had vanished.

“H-hello?”

The shoes started again and Bucky flinched at the sound, breath coming out in rasping bursts.  
“Wanna hear some of my pickup lines?”

It didn’t feel like a genuine question, Bucky thought better of saying anything and pressed his lips together.

“Do you like heavy metal?”

Bucky wracked his brains for the ending line the man was clearly waiting for “Umm-“

“Cause I’m gonna teach you how to scream.”

The footsteps paused again and the deafening silence came back in full force. Bucky was twitching, whether it was from the cold, over stretched muscles or anticipation, he wasn’t sure.

“Why, why are you doing this?”  
Bucky’s heart drummed faster when he spoke again, so much so he gasped at the thump in his chest.

“Are you a corn field?...”

Bucky shook his head, trying to rub the blindfold off on his stretched out biceps.  
“Stop this-

“Because I’m stalking you...”

His hiccupping heart was having difficulty beating normally.

“Look...I’m sorry okay-

“The last time I saw a body like yours, I was burying it in the basement.”

“That’s the worst out of the lot.” Bucky mumbled. He did his best to sound confident, but he heard the hitch in his voice.

“Oh...I got one more for you....Steve...”

Bucky waited, but the man didn’t say anything else. Bucky turned towards where the voice had been.  
“’m not called Steve-

“I know you’re not, but I am....I’m giving you my name.”

This was a pickup line, one that Bucky knew, one that he used, “why?”

“Because you’re gonna be moaning it soon.”

He knew the man was leaning in close, body mere centimetres away from touching Bucky’s flesh.  
“I would clap if I could move my hands...”

“Always the funny guy aren’t you, Bucky?”

He swallowed at the name, shifting on his toes to angle himself away from the man.

“What-what are you going to do with me...kill me?”

He sighed in reply, slow and disappointed.  
“My life is predictable, this deal, that deal, drugs, people, issues to sort out, stuff to steal, stuff to sell on...it’s all predictable. Even Brock, as clever as he thought he was, was predictable. I knew he was going to betray me, had a car ready to chase him down.”

The footsteps stopped, directly in front of where Bucky hung.  
“But I didn’t predict you...”

Bucky gaped at the tickle to his flesh, the ghost of a hand traveling up his chest to the base of his neck. A finger tapped once on the hollow of his throat, and then the contact vanished.

“You have been an abnormality, a cure to my mind-numbing boredom. I could not predict you, and that, that makes me interested. Very interested...in you.”

“Look, you got the case back now, the painting’s fine, this is over.”

“Not without punishment though...you took something from me, I’m gonna take something from you.”

Bucky tried to hide his sob with a snort, tried to box his shoulders up to look unbothered.  
“S’like the movies right? You’re gonna cut of my fingers...my thumbs.”

He could do that, it would hurt like a bitch, but he could take it as long as he escaped and returned the painting, hell the man could cut off his whole arm and he’d be able to buy himself another one-

“I can’t reach your hands at the moment, there are other far more important assets on display...”

Bucky crossed his legs, shielding his body as far from the other man as he could. He could cope without a finger, a thumb, an arm, but not without what was dangling between his legs.  
“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?...”

Bucky bit down on his lip not to sob, the adrenaline in his body was freezing at the implication.

The heat radiating from the man disappeared, Bucky listened intently, his own breathing coming out in rushes, deafening him to the sounds in the room.

Rustling of clothes, the clunk of something metal hitting the hard floor. Two more thumps and the silence returned.

“’m sorry okay...just don’t-

“Don’t what?”

He sounded pathetic, knew he did, “don’t hurt me.”

“You think you’re quite the womaniser don’t you.”

Bucky didn’t answer, threw his head back and pressed his lips firmly not to sob, not to beg. He wasn’t afraid of the others, but this guy, he was terrifying.  
“Let me go-

Before he could blabber out more pointless apologies his breath was stolen from his lungs. His back was on fire, warm flesh resting against his back, covering it, consuming it.  
He couldn’t help but lean back, needing that heat.

“I’m gonna take something from you.”

Bucky squeaked, tried to wiggle forward, but he missed the warmth and sagged back to the man’s chest.  
Hands were squeezing into his hips holding him still so he didn’t sway. He was caught in an odd embrace, and when arms wound around his chest, he hated that he liked it, his whole body felt relieved at the contact, he gasped desperately, pushing his body into the hold.

The hands mapped his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake, reviving his frozen skin. He was drunk on the feeling, the sensation of his body coming alive.

“What do you think I will take?”

He swallowed painfully, shivering as one hand travelled lower. He was hard, didn’t know at what point he had become so, but the man took hold of him.

He thought this was it, the man was going to bring a knife up and slice him, cut through the flesh and leave him with nothing.  
Instead, the hand on him moved, from the base to tip and back down again.

“Wha-what?”

Lips were skipping along his shoulders, making his breath hitch and catch, and when teeth nipped the back of his neck, he full on body shuddered, groaned at the rush of feeling.  
The hand was moving fast on him, getting more slippery as he grew harder and wetter.

“I’m not gay.”  
Even to his own ears it sounded like a desperate pant.

“Try telling your cock that.”

“I don’t understand-

He was half speaking to the guy touching him, and half to himself, he was straight, he liked women and yet it felt so good to be touched. Stood on his tiptoes he still tried to flex his hips at the contact, hump into the hand cupped around him. His arms ached fiercely, his calves were burning from the pull, but that pain was succumbing to pleasure. The hand wrapped around him, the lips and teeth at his neck and the other hand cupping his chest, pinching at a nipple. He didn’t even recognise the moans and groans in the room as his own. He was a puppet to pleasure and all his strings were being played.

“Every time you’re touched by a woman, you’ll remember this.”

Bucky tipped his head back, turning towards the voice of the man-

“You’ll remember how I completely owned your body like no one else can...”

The hand running up his length stopped, had he had more of his feet on the floor, he would’ve stomped with frustration. He’d been denied, right at the end.

He flinched out of his wave of frustration when fingers trailed down his spine. He clenched up when he knew where they were planning on stopping.

“No one teased you here before?”

Bucky shook his head, shifting away from the hand at his back, but it was useless, he dangled helplessly for the man to play with.  
As much as he tensed, he couldn’t stop the man’s hands from prying him apart, couldn’t stop the finger than pressed on the outside, till his body popped and let it in.

The stretch was slow, it burned, made the flesh of his insides feel raw and he kept clenching against it, not wanting the man touching him in that area.

“You tense like that and it’ll hurt-

“Get it out!”

The finger was joined by another, widening in his body and fighting against his resisting walls.

“Relax...it won’t hurt if you relax...it will feel good.”

“I don’t want it to feel good.” He groaned, but as he said it his muscles loosened, he couldn’t keep constricting his hole like that when his whole body was overstimulated and aching.

He groaned in defeat, letting those fingers move in him freely, grow bolder and pushing harder, further.  
It felt odd, not uncomfortable once he stopped tensing, but not pleasurable either, all until the moment Bucky’s knees weekend and he released a wreck groan from his mouth.

That felt different, good different, and it happened again, over and over he was touched till he was a shaking mess, till words couldn’t form in his mind let alone come out of his mouth.

He felt hot, tingly at the base of his spine, sensitive to the point he thought he was about to orgasm, not from his cock but from somewhere deep inside his soul.

“St-Steve.” He choked on the name, so wrong for him to be calling a man’s name and not a woman’s.

He didn’t think it was possible to come like that, with fingers shoved inside him moving and curling, but he came so close, was about to give in completely to the sensation but everything stopped.

“Not yet.” Said the voice.  
It tickled the edge of his ear, but it sounded so far away, buried under the sound of his thumping heart and rushing blood.

“Whole body hurts right?”

Bucky nodded desperately, everything hurt, but the worst was the aching for release, the need to come.  
“Ye-yes...”

The heat at his back disappeared, and he whined, whipped his head back to seek it out again, but he’d gone, had moved further than Bucky could swing.

“I could leave you like this...”

Bucky shook his head, bit into the flesh of his bicep not to sob and beg.

“I said I’d take something...and I will.”

Bucky tracked the voice. It stopped in front of him. The heat of the skin was radiating again, and he tried to wriggle towards it, move towards it like a plant sought out the sun.

The man grabbed on to Bucky’s thighs, cupped them and pulled them round his body. That was almost enough for Bucky to release all over him. The man had taken his weight, his legs and arms were being given a break by the man holding him. He didn’t even care that his bare legs were wrapped around another man’s waist.

Huge hands were cupping him under his thighs, holding him up and when they started to rise, Bucky’s head spun.  
The guy was lifting him up, rather than dangling from the rope bound round his hands, he had to grip onto it, keep his back straight as the man lifted him higher.

His legs were no longer wrapped around the man’s waist, but they were on his shoulders, dangling over, meaning Bucky’s cock was right in the guys face.

“What are you-

His words died the instant a wet sensation lapped at his cock. It took some positioning, but once Bucky’s cock was in the man’s mouth, it was clear he wasn’t going to let it go, he was planning on sucking it dry. The heat of the mouth didn’t surprise him, but the softness did.

There was the scratch of facial hair between his legs, but the mouth, the flesh inside was silk like, the tongue was tentative and probing. His every moan, every over-sensitive twitch and shudder was being catalogued, repeated until Bucky couldn’t think straight, could only feel and it felt so good, mind-blowing.

One hand pressed at his lower back, keeping him balanced, and the other found and fondled his hole, delving inside with no resistance. The tongue was lashing his cock, fingers were finding that sweet spot inside his body, it was inevitable, as much as he tried to not orgasm, he was going to.

Too much, it was all too much, and when the moment arrived he could only squeak, gulp desperately for air as the orgasm slammed into him.

“Steve!”

He came harder than he ever had, his orgasm didn’t relent with the fingers still plucking his insides. It was the longest drawn out orgasm of his life, and for a few glorious seconds he blacked out to a wave of intense ecstasy.

Then the hands vanished, the man moved away and Bucky barely had time to register what was happening before gravity yanked him back down with a jolt. The pain exploded in his arms, red hot and angry, he knew they had been close to dislocation.  
His head was spinning, everything felt detached and far away. His arms were released, and he dropped, panting to the floor, too exhausted to move, not even enough energy to attack the blindfold round his head.

He laid panting, throat hoarse and crackly. His Cock and his insides still fluttering with waves of sensitivity.

“Good boy.” The voice said.

The man was standing over him, Bucky could feel a leg either side of his torso. Another sound grew louder, the slide of wet flesh above him, and then spurts landing on his face, on his cheek and chin.

He didn’t even have the energy to wipe it off frantically; it ran down his cheek, catching on his top lip before dripping into his panting mouth.

That was his first taste of Steve....the first taste of any man and it didn’t turn his stomach like he thought it would, it danced on his tongue, he rubbed it to the top of his mouth, savouring the salty flavour.

“I’ve taken sex from you...It will never be the same for you again.”

With the footsteps receding, Bucky knew he was right, he had never come apart like that before, didn’t know he could till he was a quaking mess on the floor.

No girl would be able to give him head without him thinking of that, he wouldn’t be able to stroke himself at night without remembering the hands on his body, teeth on his neck. The raw power of the faceless man.

“We’re done...I’ve won.” The man said, and a door clicked somewhere far away.

Steve, that was all Bucky knew about him. His name was Steve, and he thought he’d won.

Bucky yanked the blindfold from his eyes, used it to wipe the drying come off his face. Steve was wrong, he hadn’t won whatever game they were playing. They were definitely not done.

He still had the painting, could still get his money and the high that went with it. Steve was going to lose.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Once Bucky had full sensation back in his body he sat up. The room was empty, dark and so cold he was trembling. Getting to his feet was harder, the room swayed, and he staggered across the concrete like a drunk, hoping his clothes were nearby.

They weren’t, of course that man wasn’t going to let him have his clothes. It left him two options: stumble home as naked as the day he was born, or wrapping himself in one of the abandoned meat bags. He didn’t fancy getting arrested for nudity so he hugged one of the bags around his body, limping his way out.

He ached, he daren’t try to lift his arms over his head, and his neck was stuck bowing forward. He hurt, but with the hurt came other sensations, ones he tried not to think about. He did not think about his still tingling cock, and he did not think about his fondled hole.

He recognised the street which was at least one good thing, but he knew it was a long walk back to his apartment. The whole time he tried not to think about what had just happened, tried to block out how good it felt and how hollow he felt when he heard the man walk away.

“Hey buddy, rough night?”

He glared at the man leaning from his car, he was dressed in a stinking meat bag and he looked like shit, rough was an understatement.

“Good night actually.” He said completely deadpan, burning holes into the man’s head.

“Was gonna offer you a ride?”

Bucky eyed up the car, the man was looking at him with unconcealed pity, “you haven’t stolen anything from your boss?”

The man hummed, “erm no...Not really, pens from the office but that’s ‘bout it.”

“You’re not some kind of gangster?”

Again the man hummed, “not as far as I know...”

The cynical part of his brain told him it was a trick, another one of Steve’s men, but he looked like a normal guy, shaved head, and no scars on his hands. There wasn’t the weird atmosphere around him like there was with Tony and Clint.

Bucky nodded, “count me in then.”

He tugged the handle and climbed into the back-  
“No offense, but can you wind your window down, you really do stink.”

Bucky sniffed the air around himself before sighing, “yeah, I see your point.”

They drove back to the apartment in silence.

He couldn’t fully relax, didn’t trust this man completely. He drove Bucky home even though it was the opposite direction he’d been travelling, who does that?

“I don’t have money.” Bucky blurted.

“I would say you’ve got nuffing at all...”

“Why you helping me?”

He flicked a glance in the mirror, “you’re clearly high...coming down from something, can’t leave ya on the street.”

“I’m not a junkie.”

“That’s what they all say.”

He was a junkie, an adrenaline one, he hadn’t shot up in an alley and had his clothes stripped.

Once at the apartment Bucky leaned forward between the seats.  
“What’s your name?” He asked.

Then man frowned, “why do you need to know...”

Bucky shrugged, “case I get rich one day and I wanna thank you for the ride.”

“That’s not gonna happen, one of us gets rich, it ain’t gonna be you.”

Bucky pressed his lips in a hard line before climbing from the car. He bowed his head in thanks even though inside he wanted to curse like hell. In a few days his face would be plastered all over the news, the man would soon regret not giving up his name for a cut of the reward money.

Home, sanctuary, it was a hell hole, but his hell hole and he galloped the stairs to get inside. The bag was shoved straight in the trash, but the smell had clung to his skin, rolled his stomach and made his throat spasm.

He stubbed his toe in his hurry to reach the shower, it throbbed but the pain was secondary to the need He stubbed his toe in his hurry to reach the shower, it throbbed but the pain was secondary to the need to wash. Not only did he want the smell of rotten meat gone but he needed to rid himself of Steve too. Along with the putrid smell of the bag, he’d been breathing that man’s scent, he could still feel where his lips had pressed and his fingers had trailed, he needed it gone. Needed to forget.

He washed every inch of himself, used the whole bottle of shower gel till all he could smell was artificial flowers. He hummed as loud as he could when he cleaned between his cheeks, distracting himself with noise so he wouldn’t register why he was tender there. He soothed the skin, shaking his head in anger when he got hard. His body was betraying him; it had betrayed him in the freezer and was doing so again in the shower.

Anger gave way to niggling despair, and he zoned out, staring down at himself.

The water beat down on his back, loosening his coiled shoulders and neck. It was hot, he could see it was hot from the steam clouding the cubical, could see it was hot from his feet glowing red raw, knew it was hot from the dial behind him being at maximum, but he couldn’t feel it. He felt cold, chilled to the bone and found himself shivering even though near-enough fire was dripping on his back.

He knew what an adrenaline drop felt like, but this was different, he sunk down into the base of the shower and wrapped his arms round his knees, arousal depleting every second that passed.

“What the hell is this?” He muttered to himself, trying to understand the sudden hollow feeling, the jitteriness in his body. It was horrible, and he had no clue how to stop it, hadn’t experienced it before.

Bucky reached up and twisted the dial to off, carried on sitting in the base of the shower as the steam faded around him. He couldn’t work out what he was feeling, what the hell this new emotion was. He kept thinking back to that man, it was to do with him...he felt vulnerable...ashamed... guilty, but it didn’t make sense why he felt that now, why not at the time it was happening.

He was only aware he was crying when he tasted tears at the edge of his lips and once he realised he laughed hysterically, palming his face to be rid of them. Bucky continued to blubber in the shower, laughing manically at odd intervals. He felt drunk, sad, giddy, and anxious all in one and his head was spinning trying to adjust to the odd miss-match.

He needed to focus, needed to distract himself from whatever emotional battle was raging in his head. There was no clear winner, it was a mess; he was a mess.

Finally Bucky lifted his head, shoulder barged his way up the tiles to stand in the shower. The painting, he still had it, Steve had used him like a toy, thought he’d won but Bucky was one step ahead.

He had been sitting in the shower so long he didn’t need to dry himself, even his hair stopped dripping. He rushed into the bedroom, fanning his hands around his drawers to find some underwear. He had bought some new ones, but apparently they had been taken while he was captive in the meat freezer.

“Fine.” He huffed at no one, kicking his legs into his pants and shoving on a t-shirt. Once he’d returned the painting, he’d buy endless new underwear, gold-plated or with diamonds on. Just to show Steve he hadn’t won, to have the last laugh.

He called for a taxi, watching from the window for the yellow car to arrive. It did and honked a few times in frustration.

Bucky pulled the window up, “I’m coming...”

The painting was tugged from its hiding place under the floorboards before he secured it in his suitcase. He didn’t pack any clothes, the ones he was wearing would have to do for a day or two, and then he could buy whatever he wanted.

There was no black car, but he was certain they were watching his home via other means. The camera across the street for one... he swore hadn’t been there months ago.

“Where ‘m I taking you?”

“Airport...but I need to stop off someplace on the way.”

The driver bobbed his head and pulled off from the curb, Bucky drummed the suitcase on his lap.

There was no doubt Steve would realise the painting was a fake, try to track Bucky down before he could returned it to the gallery. The thought made his skin break out in goosebumps and he smiled savagely at the case. Bucky hated being underestimated, and he had one final ‘fuck you’ for Steve.

“So where we stopping on the way?”

Bucky snorted smugly, hand held possessively over the painting.

 

The driver waited patiently for him to return from his errand. When Bucky climbed back into the car he jutted his chin towards him.

“You could’ve left the case while you went in there.”

Bucky glared at the suitcase, “I needed it...”

“Sure you don’t trust me? No offense but you’re kinda scruffy, I doubt there was anything worth nicking in it.”

“You’d be surprised.” He smirked, “airport please.”

“Sure...lets go...”

 

Bucky couldn’t miss the blacked out car following him on the journey. The driver noticed too and flicked his fingers up at him in annoyance.

“He’s right up my ass.”

A day earlier Bucky would’ve made an innuendo but the words just made him shudder and clench his cheeks together. He did not want to think about that right now, couldn’t afford to get distracted.

“I think that guy’s following us.”

Bucky hummed to attention, pretending he hadn’t noticed the car bearing down on them.  
“Lots of people wanna go to the airport...”

“He’s driving right behind us, every time I signal for him to overtake he doesn’t.”

Bucky risked a peek round, the shock at having Tony and Clint only a few meters behind, both wearing furious expression’s made him laugh.

A laugh of nerves and anxiety but a laugh none the less, and when Tony saw he yelled some curse words. Trying to read his lips, Bucky thought it looked like ‘little shit’ or ‘lying git’. He wasn’t sure; he just smiled brightly and waved his hand.

“Actually, I do know them...friends of mine.”

He waved again and Tony banged his fist on the steering wheel, head ready to explode, while more colourful and harsh words were mimed out by his lips.

“Friends? they look like they wanna kill someone.”

“They always look like that.” Bucky chirped back.

He smiled reassuringly in the mirror but the driver just frowned unconvinced.

The taxi pulled into the drop off area and Tony and Clint followed, parking behind.  
“’m not sure about this kid...”

Bucky shuffled forward in his seat, “here’s what I owe ya.”

The man didn’t take the money, stared in the mirror as if Bucky hadn’t spoken.  
“They look like bad news.”

Bucky sighed, dropping the money in the passenger seat, “thanks for the ride.”

As soon as he opened his door, both Tony and Clint climbed from their car too. There was an odd stare-off; Tony pointed to his heel like he expected Bucky to run over there like a dog.

Instead he walked at a brisk pace into the airport. It wasn’t exactly a high speed chase, more a fast paced walk not to look suspicious. The check-in was in sight, but before he could get there his arm was snagged and squeezed tightly.

“Don’t even think it.”  
The words were hissed through Tony’s teeth. He eyed the people nearby, shooting off easy smiles but his eyes were split with red lines.

“You booked a holiday too?”

Tony shook his arm, “give me that case.”

Bucky tucked it between his legs and held it tight with his knees, “no chance.”

Tony leaned in close, other hand shooting to Bucky’s palm and pressing the thumb back.  
It stung and Bucky gasped, rearing up on his tiptoes.

“I’ll break your thumb if you don’t hand it over.”

Bucky panted through the pain, “we both know it’s worth more than a thumb...more than two.”

Tony snapped his teeth together, bending Bucky’s thumb till it creaked.

The case was yanked from between his legs from behind, and he spun on the spot glaring at Clint.  
“My advice...wherever you’re going, don’t come back.”  
He didn’t even say it in a threatening way, there was genuine concern coming from Clint.

“I hope you do come back,” Tony growled, releasing Bucky but leaning in closer, “Steve will end you.”

Bucky tried to grab his case but Tony shoved him away. Clint backed up a step, wheeling the case behind him.

It was then Bucky saw him, the taxi driver steamrolling his way at Clint.

“Shit.” Breezed through his lips before he could help it.

It was a single punch but Clint clattered to the ground.

“Stealing his case!”

Clint was bleeding, the case was tugged at by the man. Tony flashed his suit jacket open, letting the driver see he was armed.

“Don’t care, I won’t let you steal from a kid.”

Bucky intervened, placing himself between his saviour and Tony. It would be brash to use the weapon, stupid even, but Tony looked so pissed there was a real possibility he would.

“S’okay...they can have-”  
The driver shook his head, poised to argue but Bucky spoke first.  
“Leave!”

It was harsh, his tone was snappy, and the guy didn’t deserve it for looking out for him, but he went reluctantly, darting concerned looks over his shoulder but Bucky just grinned them away, encouraging him to leave with small flicks of his chin.  
Clint was back on his feet, wiping at his bloodied nose.

“Why’s it always me?” He whined.

“You got a punchable face.” Bucky replied.

Despite the situation, Clint grinned at him.

Bucky turned to Tony, “have it, it’s all yours.”

“There was no question it was ours.”

Bucky held his hands up and backed away, “not worth dying over.”

They took the case, disappeared into the crowds of people and Bucky sighed in relief delving in his pocket to find his passport and phone to check in. His plan went better than expected.

 

The stop off on the way to the airport was a risk, but Bucky loved risks, they made his veins sing with happy pulses, and wondrous adrenaline throb in his head. He knew they’d be watching, told to follow him if he left the apartment, but that didn’t mean they were cleverer. If anything, arrogance blinded them.

“Idiots.” Bucky laughed.

He inwardly gloated at his own cunning. The hardware shop sold all kinds of stuff, including packaging paper, duct tape, there was a label printer in the staff room...all these things came in handy when posting a package, a big one that needed to look inconspicuous.

The airport was the obvious way of moving the painting, but it wasn’t the only one...

He’d posted the painting, not cheap for such a large item needing next day delivery, but he didn’t complain. He was going to be a millionaire by the end of the week if all went to plan....

They’d asked him whether the item was valuable at the counter and he tilted his hand left to right as if he was considering.

“Sentimental...... it means the world to me ya’know. My mum’s...it was my mum’s-

He stopped abruptly with the saddest expression he could muster on his face.

The woman at the counter awed and reached out to grip his hand, “I’ll send it through straight away.”

He placed his hand to his heart, “thanks, thank you so much.”

“You wanna just wait over there and I’ll sort it for ya.”

He had nodded and while he waited in the queue he wrote on a huge bit of card the words ‘I won’. There were a few confused glances from people in the line, but he put the card inside his empty suitcase chuckling to himself.

The woman gave him the thumbs up and he bowed in thanks, returning to the awaiting taxi with his empty case.

“I’m one crafty bastard.” He had muttered to himself.

 

Tony and Clint were rushing back to their master having been fooled again. Bucky’s only regret was not bugging the case with a hidden camera, he would’ve loved to see Tony and Clint’s face when they opened it up, even better would be seeing the mysterious Steve when he read his taunt. There was no doubt he would be furious, would want to hunt Bucky down, that was more exciting than the prospect of being a millionaire. He shivered thinking of Steve trying to catch him.

Yep, when Bucky snuggled into his seat on the flight he felt pretty damn happy, bubbling with adrenaline and withholding giddy laughs like a mad man. The painting would arrive at the hotel in a day’s time; he’d wait for it, sipping champagne surrounded by the aura of victory.

  
He’d won.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Bucky squeezed the bridge of his nose hard and sighed dramatically down the phone for the fifth time.  
“I’m not joking, I’ve got the painting....”

Yet again his words were met by a barking voice, “you’re about the tenth kid calling today...”

Bucky flicked his hand towards the painting on the wall, “it’s here, in front of me-I can tell you exactly what it looks like-

“So can Wikipedia.”

The call went dead, and Bucky was very tempted to hurl the device at the wall, he didn’t, but he did squeeze it hard enough for it to squeak from the pressure.

This was supposed to be the easy bit; he’d taken care of everything else and was hiding out at a hotel a few miles from the gallery just like he planned.  
He paid in cash, of course he did, using his card would’ve been a stupid move, and he used a false name. Sam Smith, it was inconspicuous, didn’t draw any attention; though the huge package that was delivered to his room did draw some attention, some jumping eyebrows on curious faces.

Bucky waved the attention away, “Old family portrait...”

As soon as the door closed he placed the painting on the bed and punched the air in triumph. The shabby framed landscape was tugged from the hotel wall and in its place, Bucky hung the Mondrian. It hung opposite the bed so he could kick back and stare at the most beautiful bit of art he’d ever seen while making the phone call destined to make him a millionaire.

It was the second time the guy at the gallery had hung up on him. When he tried to make the third call the guy cursed down the phone at him.

“I really do have it-

“Look kid, I’m blocking your number now, you got it, turn up on the steps with it.”

The line went dead and when Bucky dialled again there was no tone on the other end.

He growled at the bed, rolling around on the sheets in frustration. The packaging lay in tatters on the floor, he needed more tape to wrap the damn thing up, then he had to think about how to get it to the gallery; but before he could descend into further irritation his stomach rumbled.

He placed his hand to it with a huff; that was at least one problem he could sort out immediately, the breakfast bar was open at reception. The menu by the bed had been tempting him for the last hour and he snatched it up, turning his back on the painting. Food was more important, he needed to eat, and then he would figure out how to get the priceless painting to the gallery’s front door.

He practically skipped to the elevator, bowing and saying a cheery hello to everyone he saw. The women responded with fluttering lashes and small smiles, the men looked like they wanted to pummel him into the floor. One thing was for sure, they’d remember his face by the end of the day...every news article would have his face plastered on it.

He glared at his hair in the elevator mirror, brushing it back on his head with his fingers. He pinched at his chin and jaw wincing at the sharp prickle of growing hair. He needed a shave, he not-so-subtly sniffed at his armpit... it wasn’t bad, but in need of an extra spray of deodorant. If he was going to be interviewed for finding the priceless painting he had to look his best, smell his best.

The elevator dinged and he walked into the lobby, back straight and shoulders up, about to eat a breakfast fit for a king.  
He sat by the window, idly scanning the breakfast menu waiting to be served; he was ordering the whole god damn menu just for effect.

Movement across the street caught his eyes, a blacked out car was parked at the opposite hotel and his eyes locked on it. He was being jumpy, had to be, there was no way they could’ve found him. He had been untraceable.  
But there was no doubt who the pissed looking man was, who the red headed woman was and the other man chowing down on a sub.

Shit. He stood slowly, backing himself away from the window in a crouch. He didn’t care if he looked stupid, he had to get back to his room, hide out until the suits across the road left.

His ass hit into something and he straightened immediately, back pushing against the wall behind.

A hand gripped his hip, heat seeped through into his skin and he swallowed hard.

“Eager aren’t you...”

It wasn’t even the voice that told him it was Steve flat at his back, it was the prickle at his neck, the way his heart galloped into his throat and the shivers that ran down to his toes and made them curl.

He went to turn to face him, but a hand came down on his shoulder, squeezing down to the bone.

“No.”

Bucky stilled at the words, staring straight ahead. He could still see the others on the opposite pavement. Tony kicked the wheel of the car with what looked like a stream of curse words and Nat smacked the sandwich from Clint’s hands.

“You may’ve fooled them with that painting, but you didn’t fool me.”

Bucky didn’t think he would, it had only been a decoy to give him a head start.  
“How did you find me?”

Steve didn’t answer, only pulsed his fingers around Bucky’s aching shoulder and breathed deep at the back of his neck, it made Bucky’s shoulders bunch together.  
“Take me to the painting.”

Bucky swallowed, trying to relieve his dry mouth before bobbing his head. He thought about running, but the hand on his shoulder was practically fixed to his bone, it would take amputation to remove it-  
“Don’t turn around.”

He shivered again at the voice, all he had was the voice and the atmosphere that surrounded this man; he had no idea what Steve looked like. Bucky darted a look to the hand on his shoulder and saw pale skin etched with thick dark lines. That was just his hand, his face was bound to be the same, covered in scars, or completely tattooed, maybe he had some golden teeth or one of his eyes gouged out.

“Hey?” Steve shook him and finally his feet started working. He led Steve towards the elevator, catching the briefest glimpse of him in the elevator mirror: blonde hair, Steve had blonde hair, which was all he saw.  
Steve bullied him into the room, shoving at Bucky’s shoulder until he had his forehead pressed to the wall opposite the door.

“Stay like that.” Steve ordered.

He did, he didn’t dare turn around.

The room went silent and he was sure Steve had left him like that, but then his cold voice startled Bucky.  
“Come here now. Hotel across the street, room 322.”

The room went quiet again, Bucky needed to fill the deafening silence, it was driving him mad. He shuffled his feet, lightly raked his nails on the wall to make a tiny noise to focus on.

“It’s rare I have to deal with someone, you’ve been very entertaining...but the game’s over.”

Bucky knew it was true, Steve had the painting back. He leaned one foot to the other contemplating trying to escape, rushing Steve and taking the painting from the wall.  
He could try; the thought of trying had his heart thundering, his legs moving restlessly.

“You can try and take me...you won’t get very far.”

Bucky sagged back into the wall, that was all he had on his side, the element of surprise but Steve had seen the switch in his stance, new what he was about to do.  
“Wh-what are you going to do with me?”

The silence after hung heavily between them, Bucky stayed perfectly still, listening intently at the man behind.  
“Haven’t decided yet.”

Footsteps broke the next bout of pin-drop silence.

“Boss-

The voice ceased immediately, Bucky had no idea what Steve had gestured, but the voice died in an instant.  
“Tie him to the bed...face up.”

Bucky whipped round to see Steve but all he saw was his back disappearing through the door, then Nat, Tony and Clint were on him, grabby hands and stomach aching punches. He gave escaping a good go, managed to give Tony a bloodied lip, but in the end a swift knee in the head from Nat had the world going black and he was falling to the floor.

He was floating on a soft cloud, even sighed blissfully at the feeling before his ribs started to ache, a pulse of pain throbbed at his head and his wrists stung. Not a cloud, a bed. His arms were tied with rope to the headboard and when he opened his eyes they burned adjusting to the light overhead.

“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

That gravelly deep voice, Steve was there, no longer hiding his face but sitting at the end of the bed watching. He wasn’t anything like what Bucky expected: blonde hair, blue eyes, sprinkling of stubble a few shades darker than the hair on his head. His skin was pale, but there were no scars or tattoos, or blemishes; it was flawless like marble. He avoided looking at Steve’s lips, if he looked there he’d think about the last time they’d been in a room together...those lips around his-

He shook his head, flinging the thought from his mind, he needed to focus, think of a way out of the situation.  
Bucky took stock of the size of him, he had rolled his shirt sleeves up, even his forearms looked muscled let alone the rest of his buffed up body that was pressing against his shirt. Tailored to fit him and expensive, even the aftershave wafting off him was exotic and high quality.

“Am I not what you expected?”

“No.” Bucky blurted before he could help it.

Steve cocked his head and stared through him. The coldness to the expression made Bucky shiver. Steve’s pale irises burned into him, not with fire but with ice, burning ice.

Steve gestured to the newly empty space on the wall, “I’ve sent it for testing to be sure it’s not a fake...it will probably take a few hours to verify it...”

“And when they do you’ll let me go?”

Another icy glare was shot his way and Bucky submissively shifted his eyes to avoid it. That look could quite literally stop his heart.  
“I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you yet.”

Steve leaned over and picked a knife off the floor.

Bucky twisted his wrists but winced at the burn, he couldn’t get out of them. The adrenaline coursing through Bucky’s body stilled for a moment with intense fear. Steve was twirling the blade in his hands, watching the sharp blade with fascination.

  
“’m sorry okay.”  
It sounded desperate, but Bucky didn’t care-

“Breakfast.” Steve announced, pulling an apple from his pant pocket.

Bucky’s imminent heart attack stopped in its tracks and his heart settled down again.  
“Wha?” he gaped, watching at Steve peeled the apple absentmindedly with the blade.

Bucky tensed when Steve shifted further up the bed, his thick thighs straddled Bucky’s body and he sat down on top, crotch to crotch. A pillow was arranged behind Bucky’s head so he was tilting slightly forward. He didn’t protest; he just arranged himself how Steve wanted him.

“You went downstairs for breakfast, it was rude of me to interrupt...here have a slice.”

Bucky pressed his lips together firmly, not accepting the slice of apple, but Steve waited patiently with it pressed to his lip using that evil stare. As if hypnotised by it Bucky gave in and opened his mouth, chewing the apple with desperation. His stomach approved and before he could process what was happening Steve fed the whole apple to him bit by bit, watching with laser intensity.

“Sweet isn’t it?”

Bucky nodded his head as much as he could with being tied to the bed and Steve seemed satisfied with his response.

“Got something else too...”  
Steve leaned over the bed, pulling a yogurt pot into view. He twirled it in his hands, lips bunched as he studied the flavour.  
“It’s vanilla...” he sighed dramatically and hit his palm to his head, “thing is...I only went and forgot a spoon didn’t I...oh well.”

He settled on top of Bucky again, shifting his pelvis as he got comfortable. It was the first time Bucky looked down at where their bodies joined and his eyes bugged at the huge bulge in Steve’s pants.

The lid of the yogurt was held to his lips, “Lick it.”

He did, tentatively, eyes locking on Steve’s blue ones as he did. His own body was beginning to react, and he rubbed his feet together to distract himself, moving his hands in the restraints so they hurt just to stop himself from getting aroused. He was licking a lid, it shouldn’t have been arousing, he was at Steve’s mercy it shouldn’t have made him rock hard.

Steve didn’t seem to notice Bucky’s inner and outer conflict, only plunged his finger into the yogurt pot and scooped some out. He held it to Bucky’s lips and they opened automatically, allowing Steve’s finger inside. Bucky lashed his tongue at the digit, cleaning it of yogurt. Steve hummed and Bucky found himself doing the same.

“Think you might’ve missed some, make sure you get it all off yeah?”  
He suckled at the finger, there was definitely no more yogurt left and he had no idea why he continued to suck the length of Steve’s finger in his mouth. Steve’s icy eye had blackened, more terrifying than when they were just cold and indifferent, these ones were ruthless looking and hungry.

He ate the whole yogurt that way, growing more enthusiastic about sucking Steve’s fingers. Steve tried two, then three. Bucky dribbled and Steve ducked down to lick it away, to clean where it dripped with a long swipe of his tongue.  
Bucky couldn’t help himself, he moaned at the contact, tilting his head to follow Steve’s tongue. Steve was close enough to smell and Bucky breathed him in deep, relishing the dark exotic smell praying it stayed on his skin for hours, days even.

There was no denying his arousal, he was trying not to rut against Steve but his body was restless, shifting against the weight holding him to the bed.

Steve showed him the yogurt, “all gone....got one last thing for you to eat though...”

Bucky was so far gone that he didn’t hear the ping of Steve’s belt, only stared at the light above his head and groaned in frustration. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he wasn’t supposed to enjoy this.  
“Open up...you’ve been so good so far.”

He did as Steve told him, still not fully aware of what was happening, all until the moment Steve’s cock filled his mouth and he jerked back to attention. He turned his head, but Steve gripped onto his chin, he thought about biting but Steve seemed to guess that thought crossed his mind.

“Don’t even think about it.” Steve rumbled through his lips, then his voice softened, “just do what you did with the yogurt.”

Steve’s fingers were roaming his face, touching the worried lines of his forehead, soothing them with electric touches. He rolled his tongue against Steve’s cock, tracing the seam with his tip pointed.

Steve groaned loudly and the sound rumbled through his body into Bucky’s making his cock jolt with excitement. Before creeping doubt could surface again Bucky started doing what Steve told him, licking the yogurt, sucking it off and swallowing it down. Except it wasn’t sweet, but tangy. Not unpleasant in taste and the more Steve moaned and groaned the more Bucky loved it, couldn’t get enough of the musky flavour, or making Steve feel amazing.

“Keep going.” Steve mumbled and Bucky did, he sucked quick and firm, like he was pulling milkshake through a straw until Steve’s thighs started quaking erratically.

Steve was thrusting into him, fucking into his face and Bucky adjusted, spurring Steve to completion. He came with a howl, one hand yanking fiercely Bucky’s hair and the other cradling his chin gently.

The amount was harder to swallow, but Bucky did, eating what Steve gave him as if he was starved until only the lingering taste stayed in his mouth, the musky flavour clinging to his cheeks for his tongue to swipe at.

  
“Good...so good Buck.”

He shouldn’t have felt good, his heart shouldn’t have soared at the praise and his cock shouldn’t have jolted in anticipation, but it did.  
Steve climbed off the bed, undoing all the buttons of his shirt and removing his pants without breaking eye contact. His body was magnificent, muscles stacked on top of each other, more pronounced each time Steve breathed in. His cock was still hard, intimidating in size as it stood to attention. He liked women, but his pants were damp from his leaking cock. Steve turned him on, before he’d even seen him he turned him on, but now he could look at the man that had touched him, sucked him off days ago and he was magnificent in stature.

Steve went for Bucky’s pants, unclipping the top and yanking them down. He grumbled in approval, no underwear was beneath and the fabric was soaked through with excitement.

Steve gripped the bottom of Bucky’s t-shirt in his hands, there was no way he could pull it over his head with his bound hands so instead he ripped it, from the bottom of the t-shirt all the way to the neck, opening the flaps to reveal Bucky’s chest. There was another grumble of approval and hands were roaming his expanse of flesh, hot and firm on his body. God, he needed Steve to touch him, that mouth, those hands, even if his leg brushed against his cock that would be more than welcome. He ached with the need to come.

It wasn’t going to take much, he knew it and so did Steve, but blowing on the tip of his needy cock was humiliating as hell, more so when he felt the happy tingles and knew he was a goner. That was the way Steve chose to pushing him over the edge.

There was pressure on his perineum, the heel of Steve’s hand bearing down, the uncomfortable feeling wasn’t enough to stop his orgasm and he gasped with it, shaking and over sensitive while he was overcome with waves of pressure. His cock was tingling and spent but it felt odd, different. When he had enough composure back he looked down at himself, at Steve’s dark eyes by his crotch.

He hadn’t come, nothing had shot from his body and his brow furrowed in confusion, he had definitely had an orgasm. One swipe of Steve’s tongue confirmed it when he danced around to avoid the over-sensitive head.

“What the hell?” He breathed.

Steve didn’t answer, only ducked down and licked at him again. He jerked out of the way but Steve was relentless with his tongue and the oversensitivity faded. The heel of Steve’s hand was still pressing hard, but the fingers were moving too, rubbing at his hole but not going inside.

“Shit—Steve-

Steve was sucking him off mercilessly, groaning as he did so and Bucky was pretty certain he was losing his mind with it. Too much was happening and he couldn’t focus, lost in a dizzying pleasure.

The orgasm built, he tingled and buzzed and Steve threw him over the edge again. The orgasm stole his breath, stopped his heart for a few beats and he was gasping at the light above his head, sure he was about to pass out. He was still to the hilt in Steve’s mouth, though Steve wasn’t sucking or moving his tongue, just holding him in the heat of his mouth.

“Fuck---

He hadn’t come again. The heel of Steve’s hand was stopping him, pushing him so hard that it couldn’t escape. He ached with the need to, two loads of come banking in his body, needing to escape.

“Please, please Steve.”

His voice was wrecked to his own ears, he could barely hear it above his drumming heart and his gasping breaths, but he kept repeating it, hoping Steve would take pity on him.

The fingers that had only been circling breeched his body and he gasped, his lower back arching off the bed. It was too much, and tears of need stung his eyes, he sobbed Steve’s name over and over, voice alien to him.

He was being sucked off again, played with on the inside and out and he panted and pleaded, Steve’s fingers only needed to find the right spot once and fondle the flesh and the third orgasm hit him.

This time Steve removed the pressure of his hand, let him convulse all over himself with no control of where it went. Three loads of come spurting out at once, tingling his oversensitive cock as it did. Messy was an understatement, he was covered in come, hot come that Steve leaned down to lick at, to hum his approval.

Dazed and relaxed the waves of pleasure continued to wash over him, pushing him down under a sea of bliss. It didn’t feel like drowning though, it was warm and tingling rushing his brain. He vaguely remembered Steve praising him, the snap of the camera on a phone, then the words that sent eager tingles to his toes.

“Now I’m gonna fuck you.”

He didn’t have time to worry or care, happily blissed out as Steve stretched him open. This feeling that an adrenaline rush couldn’t touch, couldn’t even come close, Bucky didn’t even know what it was, he just felt so damn good, floating and light and when Steve brushed against the hollow place inside, when he filled it up it felt even better, he felt drunk with it and dizzy. Never scared though, he wasn’t afraid, the only emotions and sensations were good, so fucking good. It was a pleasure awakening and wholly welcomed by Bucky’s body and mind.

“My dirty boy...” Steve purred.

Bucky lay back closing his eyes, letting Steve do what he wanted with him.

 

He was flying high for twenty minutes after, blissed out and happy, before a chill ran up his spine and he dropped, cool air whistling past his ears as he did. He was cold again, and jittery and his skin shuddered with dread.

His eyes snapped open and he darted looks around the empty room, still naked, still tied to the bed, but Steve was gone.  
Bucky swallowed down the rising panic; he should be happy Steve hadn’t killed him, but somehow being abandoned after what’s just happened between them is worse.

“Steve?”

It came out a desperate croak and the Bucky of a few weeks ago would’ve died of embarrassment, but he didn’t care, he needed Steve to be there after and he wasn’t.

Steve appeared from the bathroom, stark naked, an indifferent expression on his face. Bucky was on the verge of some kind of break down and Steve just glared, taking a step forward and continuing to glare.

He stared intently into one of Bucky’s eyes before jumping his attention to the other, analysing Bucky’s sudden change in wellbeing. The top of his nose dented with a curious expression, it deepened into a concerned one.

Bucky’s arms were full on trembling, he hoped Steve thought it was because of straining muscles, but he knew better, it was that weird feeling he had in his shower: the one where he didn’t know how to think or feel; he just needed something to make the odd war of emotion to stop.

Steve snapped out of his paralysed state and practically stumbled forward to get to the bed, perching on the edge of the mattress and pressing his palm firmly on Bucky’s chest.

“Breathe...”

Bucky hadn’t realised he’d stopped, but he gasped for air at Steve’s command, the detached feeling in his head faded as he gulped it down.

“I’m gonna untie your hands, don’t do anything stupid.”

He tried to nod, but his body wasn’t responding to his wishes. Steve leaned over him, imposing chest still bare and on show above Bucky’s face. The rope fell, his arms were free and without any thought he threw them around Steve and grabbed on to him.

It was possibly the world’s most awkward hug, Bucky clinging on and Steve doing nothing back but sitting and letting Bucky press close. It was humiliating and degrading but he couldn’t stop.

“Was reaching for my phone...” He muttered to Steve’s neck, to top it all off, he made himself sound like an utter idiot too.

“I’m not your phone, Bucky.”

Bucky hissed on his shoulder, willing his arms to release their death hold but they wouldn’t give Steve up.  
“You got in the way.” Bucky blurted, flushing red, even more embarrassed.

“Oh.” Steve replied coolly, “I’ll just move so you can get it.”

Steve shuffled down the bed but Bucky went with him, clinging desperately. He didn’t even know where his stupid phone was, but he was certain it wasn’t attached to Steve’s back.  
“Did you feel like this last time?”

Steve’s voice grumbled into his ear but Bucky wanted to block it out, not engage in the taunting. He was being stupid; it was one thing feeling like this alone in the shower but another when he had strapped himself to Steve’s chest.  
“Like what? I’m fine, absolutely fine.”

Steve huffed, the air tickled Bucky’s neck, a warm current over his freezing body.

“You’re shaking...”

He gritted his teeth, he knew he was shaking, couldn’t stop for some unknown reason, but he’d rather Steve just ignore his weirdness than draw attention to it.

“You’ve had ample time to try to escape and you haven’t.”

It was certainty on his to-do list, but he couldn’t complete the task until whatever this was had passed.

“And you’re hugging me-

“’m not hugging you...”

Another long drawn out sigh breezed Bucky’s shoulder.  
“You’re clawing at my back like you’re scared you’ll fall.”

He hadn’t even noticed his restless hands; his fingertips were hurting from pressing into Steve’s firm muscles but he blocked the pain out till Steve made him recognise it. He was being pushed back, away from Steve and he struggled, stopping only when an irritated eyebrow was raised at him.

Steve pulled the scraps of his t-shirt off his arms before tugging Bucky back to his chest. He gasped when Steve wound his arms round his back, pushed his muscled chest tight to Bucky’s. Warm, so warm and comforting and immediately everything stopped and he breathed slowly, quaking stopping completely. He just sighed contently several times, even more relaxed when Steve started moving his hands up his back. His flesh fizzled at the contact, nice shivers that went to his hairline and down to his toes. Big warm hands that were reviving him from whatever hell he’d been falling into.

Steve must’ve felt the change, but he didn’t comment, didn’t mock, just tipped Bucky back until he was flat on the mattress, drawing him into his massive chest and pinning him there. Spooning on the bed, it felt almost domestic, the first time ever Bucky had been the little spoon and he loved it.

They lay for several minutes in silence, Steve rubbed his stubbled chin up the back of Bucky’s neck; it scratched in a pleasant kind of way, but had Steve asked whether it felt good he would’ve told him a resounding no. None of this was meant to feel good, but it did. His mind was so fucked.

Bucky’s eyes roamed the room till they found the empty space on the wall. Steve had the painting, the real one, whatever game they were playing had come to an end. The adrenaline crash was going to hit him as soon as Steve left. It already prickled in his head, made him shift back into Steve’s hold. It made him feel sick; made his stomach swell and a cold sweat rattle his body. He didn’t want this to end, it was messed up, made him conflicted, but the thought of this game being up, he would rather die. The money, it had never been about the money but the chase and the capture.

“Breathe, Bucky....you’re freaking out again.”

“’m not! What-what happens now?”

Steve hummed, sniffing Bucky’s hair. It was the only response he was going to get; Bucky accepted it, sinking back into his warmth.

“You torture everyone like this?”

Steve’s lips rested at the base of his neck, teeth grazing the skin and Bucky shivered wildly at the contact. “only you...”

“But, why? Why this, with me....”

He listened as Steve breathed deep through his nose, then he was turned, body easy for Steve to manipulate in his exhausted state. He was rolled over, head on Steve’s pillow facing him. The icy eyes were back, but with them there was something else, no longer indifferent but an emotion that Bucky couldn’t put words to.

Steve pulled him close, tucked his head under his chin so Bucky rested on his drumming heart.  
“Let me tell you a bedtime story...”

Bucky sagged in disappointment; Steve was deflecting his question yet again. He focussed on the heat of his body and his droning voice instead.

“There was this lion. He worked his way up to be the king of the jungle....it wasn’t easy, he’s battled, he’s scarred, he started small but finally he got there...now he has a pride that will carry out his wishes, his rivals fear him. He’s comfortable, well fed, his territory stretches far and wide, no one will dare cross the king of the jungle...he should’ve been happy...”

“But he wasn’t?”

Steve’s hand brushed up Bucky’s spine, fingers worming their way into Bucky’s hair.  
“The lion got bored, everything was mundane...sure he could get anything he wanted, take from others and no one would cross him, but there was no challenge, no fun. His pride took care of all the work and he lay there, wasting away....Then one day he meets this antelope...usually he doesn’t care for any antelopes, they’re dull, they live in a different world, a different class, they go about their medial lives only occasionally he gets one of his lionesses to bring one down, but this one was different.”

Steve paused, ducking down to press his lips to Bucky’s head.

“What was different about this antelope?” Bucky asked. He shifted his face against Steve’s chest, stealing a look at him before Steve drew him back to his chest, fixing him in position.

“This antelope was young, reckless, beautiful...and it ran rings around the lionesses. It got him interested and he watched from the side-lines, intrigued. Watching this beautiful antelope made the lion feel alive again, but watching wasn’t enough. He wanted a taste of this beautiful creature, just a taste to satisfy him. He toyed with it, but the more he toyed with it, the more he wanted to take it, to keep it forever...can you see the lion’s problem?”

 Bucky hummed into Steve’s chest in thought, “he worried the antelope didn’t want to be taken? To be kept?”

Steve snorted, Bucky felt him shake his head and he sagged back into Steve’s chest annoyed. Fingers pulled gently at the hair at the back of his neck, the sensation made him dozy and he couldn’t stop his eyes sliding shut, momentary flash of annoyance gone.

“The lion wouldn’t take the Antelope’s opinion into account...he’s the king of the jungle Bucky, he does not care what the antelope wants, he takes only what he wants....no, that’s not the problem...the problem is...” He stopped correcting himself, “the lion’s problem was...”

Steve sighed harshly and Bucky waited, listening to the beat of Steve’s heart in the pause.  
“Lions eat Antelopes...they don’t keep them, no matter how beautiful and fun they are.”

“Why not?” Bucky found himself asking.

“The lion would be the death of the Antelope, one way of another... the kindest thing the lion could do was let the Antelope go...they had their fun, played their game, but it was time for the lion to go back to being a bored lion and the Antelope a dull Antelope.”

“What if the Antelope doesn’t want to be a dull Antelope?”

Steve sighed again, rubbing his chin against Bucky’s brown strands.  
“The lion doesn’t care what the Antelope wants, remember? only what he wants.”

Steve squeezed him tighter, Bucky went to argue but alluring fingers played in his hair, distracting him with pleasant chills. Warm, sated and massaged with soft touches, he found himself struggling to stay awake, forgetting what he was going to say back to Steve’s lion and the Antelope problem.

He drifted off, unable to fight it and he dreamed of Antelopes being brutally eaten by lions.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Bucky awoke alone, the comforter had been at least pulled up to his neck but it was small consolation for Steve not being there. The blank wall opposite mocked him and he hissed at the bareness and looked away. Steve had the stupid painting. The chase was up; he had been caught and though he wasn’t killed, he had been abandoned which was worse.

This was the adrenaline drop he feared. He shuffled up on the bed wrapping his arms around his drawn up knees. He felt shit, couldn’t possibly feel any wore, that was until he spied the note on the bedside table. The words bold and as blunt as the man himself.

Don’t Come Back.

Beside the note was a stack of cash, nowhere near the Mondrian’s dizzying levels but enough for him to get a flight anywhere, rent some other rundown apartment and start again. He had lost, and Steve had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t wanted and was paying him to go away.

It left him feeling crushed, empty and he screwed the note into a tight ball and threw it towards the bin. It missed; of course it did, just to piss him off that little bit more.

Steve wasn’t in control of him, couldn’t pay him off like he was some problem, and more than that, he didn’t have to listen to Steve: he was intimidating, scary as hell, but he wasn’t the boss of Bucky Barnes.

He kicked his legs back into his pants, threw the remaining scraps of his t-shirt in the trash and slotted his arms into his jacket. The rush of adrenaline started to bubble once again. A sane person would take Steve’s little bribe and disappear, but he wasn’t sane, it was all about the exciting drug in his body. Defying Steve, ignoring his wishes was bound to make it rush to the surface, fill the hollowness with hot shivers and highs.

He nodded to himself in the mirror, smile growing on his lips. His features revived from the gaunt appearance, no longer devastated at things between them being over.

Bucky flew home, disappointed when no black car waited outside his apartment. He waited by the window for one to appear but it didn’t, for hours he picked idly at the windowsill waiting to see Nat, or Tony, Clint, but most of all Steve. No one showed and he sulkily stomped his way into the shower.

He thought Steve would rush round, demand he leave, chase him down the street or drag him into the car, but nothing, absolutely nothing and he was seething with it.

The shower did nothing to uncoil his muscles as he stood bowing with the water beating down on him, thinking of a way to get his high now that Steve wasn’t interested. He couldn’t seek him out, had no idea where his lair was, if he knew, he would’ve turned up unannounced and prodded Steve till he reacted. His head filled with what Steve might do to him and he growled at the swelling flesh between his legs. Stop thinking about Steve, that’s what he had to do.

Bucky sighed, he could chase girls again, go back to his womanising ways but he knew it wouldn’t work, Steve had ruined that for him, the money...he could try adrenaline filled activity’s, bungee jumping, sky diving...maybe even cut one of the straps on his parachute just to make it more exciting.

He leaned his forehead on the tiles and breathed the steam deep in his lungs, it made him dizzy, there wasn’t enough air in the small cubical and before he could drop to the bottom he yanked the door open, gulping at the air of the bathroom. Was that the solution? Put himself in danger’s way so he could feel the addictive drug in his brain, the sweet song of his rampant heart.

Get a god-damn grip, he had done fine getting his biological high without Steve, he’d just find another way to feel alive. Steve didn’t want him so he didn’t want Steve either, wanted only to forget about him completely....he just kept the yogurt pot to put pencils in...that was all, it wasn’t a fucking memento or anything, that would crazy....

Yanking open the drawer he tutted at the lack of underwear, he still hadn’t got any new and was forced to go commando to work yet again.

Sam coaxed him into the office and he went with dragging feet.  
“You’re late,” he growled glancing at his watch to be overly dramatic, “two days late.”

“’m sorry-

“Where the hell have you been?”

Bucky shuffled on his feet, “wouldn’t believe me if I told ya.”

Sam folded his arms unimpressed, “try me.”

“Fine...I stole a priceless painting, made a fake, angered some bad people, had both the fake and the real one taken from me.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

Bucky shook his head with a laugh, “No, I don’t...but it’ the truth.”

Sam unfolded his arms and wagged his forefinger right between Bucky’s eyes, “last chance Bucky...you step out of line, even a little, tiny, minute bit and I’ll fire you.”

Bucky bobbed his head in acceptance, he was surprised Sam hadn’t fired him on the spot for his disappearing act...and the raid of the store by the suited men...and all the dads that showed up and threatened him in front of customers. Sam was pretty damn good to him considering...

“Thank you Sam...you’ve always been good to me.”

The anger scrunching Sam’s features vanished and his eyes grew round with concern.

“Why you saying it like that?”

“Like what?”

He shuffled, flapping his hand awkwardly, “like you’re gonna die or something...you’re not in trouble still are ya...those men?”

“Nah, only Tracy’s dad.”

That at least got a laugh out of Sam, his hand slapped down on Bucky’s shoulder, “back to work.”

He did as he was told, working through his break to get in Sam’s good books. He was the one ally he had in the whole world and had taken endless liberties at his expense; his sulking stomach would just have to go without-

“I told you not to come back.”

The words made him shiver, but he didn’t turn, didn’t respond, just continued to stack tins of paint; he was putting them in completely the wrong place, but who could blame him with the icy eyes watching his back.

His wrist was snagged and he was twirled round violently to face Steve’s furious face. The sight took his breath away, made his heart jackhammer wildly against his rib cage. He was bullied into the paints, Steve trapping him there.

“Get out of this town.” Hissed through Steve’s snarling lips.

Despite wanting to pool at his feet, Bucky kept his back straight, lifting his chin and challenged Steve’s glare with his own.  
“No.”

Steve reared back, lips retracted sinisterly as he got ready to growl more commands, Bucky spoke before he had the chance.

“I listened to your lovely story about the dull Antelope, and hey, I’m a dull Antelope, this is my dull job and I live in my dull apartment, and no tatty old cat is gonna tell me to leave.”

His chin was grabbed, squeezed and shook.  
“You will leave; you’ll get on a plane by the end of the day if I have to throw you on the damn thing myself. One way ticket out of here.”

“No.”

Steve leaned back, cracking his neck side to side. He was vibrating with anger, fingers digging sharply into Bucky’s flesh. The icy blue irises had been swamped by black, he looked feral, ready to strike, like the king of the jungle he claimed to be-

“Is there a problem?”

Steve didn’t turn, didn’t even address Sam’s presence but kept his eyes on Bucky’s, burning it him.

“Fine Sam, it’s fine.” Bucky uttered, hypnotised into staring back at Steve.

“Doesn’t look fine....”

Steve snorted harshly, tilting his head to set his eyes on Sam. He stumbled back at Steve’s raging appearance, Bucky saw the bob of his throat, saw how his hands instantly rose as if he was protecting himself but he didn’t leave. Sam stayed darting concerned looks between Bucky trapped against the paint and Steve pinning him there.

“I’m gonna call the cops.”

“You won’t.” Steve hissed, teeth gnashing as he said the words.

“Seriously Sam...it’s fine...” Bucky tried again, he relished Steve’s fury on him, but didn’t like it directed at Sam.

“Sam,” Steve repeated, moving his attention back to Bucky, “Sam a good boss to you? He’s a good guy right...bet lots of people love

Sam...everyone has their weaknesses, and I’ve found one of yours.”

“Excuse me?” Sam asked, but Steve ignored him, vicious glare fixed on Bucky.

“You get where this is going Bucky?”

He nodded glumly, there was no mistaking the threat in Steve’s words, Sam stood a few meters away, mouth popped and eyes wide trying to understand.

Steve leaned in menacingly close, breath hot on Bucky’s cheek. His nostrils flared at the scent of Steve, his expensive cologne wrapping around him, making it hard to breathe.

“Leave like I told you...or else I’ll use more traditional ways to hurt your friend...”

Steve released his grip, stalked off and Sam only just managed to dart out of his way to avoid being flattened. Bucky had his back to the tins, too anxious to breathe. Steve had threatened Sam, and it was no bluff, he could see it in his eyes.

“Sam...I gotta go-I have to leave.”

“What? No way man-

He ignored his boss and strolled passed, this wasn’t adrenaline in his veins, but cold dread.

“This was your last chance Bucky...you walk away now, don’t expect to come back.”

Bucky paused at the door, tilting his head but not turning to face the other man, “’m not coming back, Sam.”

Packing without a suitcase was a pain in the ass, he used a trash bag in the end, didn’t even fill it. Held it at eye level and stared daggers at it, all his worldly goods shoved in one trash bag.

He kicked at the stray stones as he stomped down the pavement, glaring at anyone who looked his way till they turned from him. He hadn’t even thought of where he was going, how far he would travel to be away from Steve.

A blacked out car pulled up beside him and he sighed at it, lifting the bag scrunched in his fist.  
“See, ‘m leaving!”

The car rolled down the road the same speed he was walking, cars queued up behind, beeping angrily and hurling abuse out their windows. Bucky tried to speed up, but the car copied, he tried stopping altogether and the car did the same. Yet another load of abuse was yelled Bucky’s way, as if he was the one getting the car to stop and slow.

He shrugged at the pissed drivers but they only growled curse words in reply, others demanded he get in the car, and when the back door opened, he dived in just to stop the barrage of abuse raining down on him.

“What you wanna drive me to the airport, say a fond goodbye?”

He was frowning out the window, not taking any notice of Clint and Tony in the front seat, no doubt they were grinning ear to ear at his retreat from the city.

“Well?” he demanded, finally forcing himself to face them.

They were suited, both with cropped brown hair, but definitely not Tony or Clint.

“So...he sent you two instead?”

The man in the passenger seat twisted round and smiled, shark like, his mouth was filled with silver teeth, the mirror reflecting Bucky’s confused face.

“Our boss sent us to fetch you.”

Bucky tested the handle of the car as subtly as he could, but the man with the silver fangs saw the movement and laughed to himself.  
“You co-operate, and things will end well for you.”

Bucky shifted against the seat, doing his best to stay calm as possible, “I co-operate?”

“We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if you struggle, this situation is far above you. It’s in your best interest to do as we say. Limits the likeliness you’ll die.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“You’ll see him soon, I promise.”

Bucky sunk back in his seat, debating whether to try to throttle the man in front. A cocked gun clicked in the silence.

“Don’t try anything stupid kid.”

Stupid? Bucky’s middle name was apparently stupid; he had climbed into another car full of nutters and couldn’t get out. They drove in what felt like circles, winding roads till they got to a street that was more littered and broken than the one he lived on.

“Nice place.” He muttered.

Silver teeth chuckled, giving him a warm smile that put him on edge.  
“Do as we say, you’ll be fine.”

They walked him into a huge warehouse, the gun at his back was his incentive to keep going. It wasn’t like the first time with Nat and the others. The table covered in an array of knives, bolt cutters and saws wasn’t for effect. They were splattered with red drops, marks were smeared on the concrete, the air thick with the smell of blood and sweat.

“Oh, Mr Barnes...”

The man striding towards him had the same intimidating edge as Steve hidden under a mask of sincerity. Steve glowered and acted indifferent, this man smiled but underneath the smile was sparkling hatred. The man stuck his hand out for Bucky to shake but he glared at it, refused to touch his wrinkling hand until the butt of the gun struck him hard on the back of his head. He jolted forward with a wince, arm shooting up, the man grabbed hold as if it was an ordinary handshake and he hadn’t been forced into it.

“I’m Alexander Pierce, it’s nice to meet you,” he gestured to the only chair in the room, “take a seat.”

“I’d rather not...”

The man smirked, darting his eyes to each of his subordinates. They got the message and forced Bucky into the chair, each time he tried to stand he was put back in place by a boot or a fist.

“Remember what I said in the car,” Sparkly teeth muttered, “start doing as we say.”

Bucky struggled like a mad man, but the men were joined by more, before the cock of a pistol had him freezing.  
“Hands behind ya back.”

He did as told, gritting his teeth when he felt the metal cuffs snap down on him. Arms pinned behind his back, his tender ribs and stomach were vulnerable and it only took a few punches for him to be gasping for air, back in the chair.

The two from the car kept him in place, the others circled behind watching like blood thirty hyenas, sniggering and muttering to each other. This was bad, so bloody bad.

And Alexander watched with a toothy grin, chuckling every time Bucky wheezed for breath, in the end he slumped defeated in the chair and waited for the man to speak.  
“Good, no more of that.”

He glowered at Alex, hoping he had a fraction of Steve’s glare but Alex just chuckled at his expression, running his hand through Bucky’s hair, petting it gently.

“What do you want with me?” He growled.

“Don’t want anything with you as such...but Steve, he has something I want.”

“The Mondrian?”

The hand in Bucky’s hair stopped, Alex ducked down to see into Bucky’s face.  
“Yes...exactly, he has it and I want it, I’m proposing a trade.”

“A trade?”

Alex nodded expectantly, “your life, for the painting.”

Well he was totally screwed in that case, there was no way this was going to have a pleasant outcome for him.

“He won’t give it up.”

Alex laughed, dark and sadistic, “your life depends on it, do you think Steve values you over that painting, I hope for both our sakes he does.”

Alex moved away, whistling confidently. Bucky’s insides filled with a hive of bees. His life was being pitted against the Mondrian, the painting Steve had gone out of his way to get back. Steve had used him, thrown him away and demanded he leave the city. He was worth nothing to him, Steve didn’t care, wouldn’t give up something priceless for him.

This was where it was going to end, in some warehouse in god knows where. Men circled around him eager to tear him limb from limb, dark droplets of blood were splattered on the concrete and the whole place stank of sick and fear.

Alex tapped away on a laptop, screen illuminating his stark cheeks and hollowed eyes. He straightened his tie, brushed off the dust that was clinging to his suit jacket and pressed down on a key.  
“Ah, Mr Rogers.”

Bucky frowned in confusion, he didn’t know Steve’s last name, hadn’t had an opportunity or reason to ask. Out from the laptop came Steve’s bored voice, even from a few meters away it made Bucky shiver and the men around him shift on their feet. Just his voice made the men nervous, edgy.

“What do you want?”

Alex laughed to himself, “straight to it then-

“You’re wasting my time, I don’t like people that waste my time.”

Another smirk breezed through Alex, “I’ve heard you have quite a painting in your possession.”

There was an extended paused, followed by a slow dreary sigh, “so what if I do.”

“I want it...”

Bucky waited for Steve to laugh, to smirk or snort but only silence followed. Alex tapped his foot on the floor at Steve’s lack of response. It was the first time Bucky saw the anger ebbing through the mask of faux cheer.

“I want it....or I damage something of yours.”

“You have nothing of mine.”

Alex’s smirk echoed in the room, he twisted the laptop round towards Bucky, finally he could see Steve’s face, knew Steve could see him too but there was no reaction, no concern or fear, just horrible disinterest. Bucky was pretty sure he looked god damn tragic flicking his head in encouraging nods, trying to get some kind of emotion to play on Steve’s face. A bit of recognition, or some concern, just to make him feel like Steve cared a tiny little bit before he got his throat slit or beaten to death.

“Why are you showing me a kid?”

Another bark of laughter echoed through the room, this time the sharpness made Bucky wince and turn from Alex.  
“He’s your kid isn’t he.”

Steve’s eyes burned through the screen, as intimidating as ever unmoving on Bucky’s.

“He’s not mine, some dull kid that entertained me for a bit, nothing more.”

The frown lines in Alex’s face intensified, Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised had the skin split and leaked blood, the depth to the lines made them look like scars, sharp splitting scars.  
“I’ll just kill him then.”

Steve shrugged, a breeze tickled the back of Bucky neck as Alex moved behind him, he sat bolt upright in the chair when the cool metal of a gun pressed his temple.

“I’ll blow his brains out right now...”

Steve sighed, darting bored glances away from the camera, “I have no interest keeping anything dull alive. I’ll keep the painting thanks.”  
Steve leaned forward, and the screen went blank. Disconnected, the call had been disconnected. Alex growled, shoving Bucky in the back of the neck hard.

“Thought this kid was meant to me something to him?”

The men either side shot puzzled looks to each other.  
“He-he does...They’ve been watching him for weeks...stayed in some rich hotel under the name Sam Smith...hell, he’d even gone to the place the kid works today to see him.”

Alex tapped his fingers on his chin, “bluff, he’s got to be bluffing then right?”

The men nodded like eager dogs. It was no bluff, Steve didn’t give a shit that he was in danger, Bucky’s breathing became laboured; he focussed on the floor, shifting in the seat restlessly. Alex clicked his fingers.

“Call him again.”

One moved to the laptop immediately, “what’s the plan boss?”

“I’m gonna cut his pretty face while he watches, see if he stays calm while I do it...”

Bucky felt sick, his stomach churned and sloshed, if he was to die he didn’t want to disgrace himself by vomiting everywhere first. Air whistled through his nostrils as he grit his teeth together hard, focussing on the uncomfortable pressure in his mouth rather than Alex considering knives at the table.

The call didn’t connect, the knife waving in front of Bucky and the gleeful look on Alex’s face dropped.

“He’s ignoring it...”

“He doesn’t care.” Bucky mumbled, unsure whether he was speaking to them or saying his thought out loud, “I’m nothing to him...”

There was a tremor in his voice, whole body quaking as he waited for what was about to happen. Fight and flight were out of the question, and in their place cold acceptance grew. He shut his eyes, willing the moment to be over quick, voices went back and forth, two of the men arguing about what to do with him.

“You’re not gonna get the painting with the kid boss, he’s worthless.”

Worthless, dull, stupid, he was making quite the list of unhelpful traits. Scared shitless was added by himself too.

The man with the silver teeth shook his head, “Maybe it’s the long game...maybe we gotta send the kid back piece by piece to get a reaction.”

“Or maybe he means nothing, just some kid he used for easy thrills.”

Alex stamped his foot down on the floor with a growl. The two bickering men fell silent. Alex paced a groove in the floor, muttering to himself, just watching him had Bucky’s head spinning.  
“If he doesn’t want the kid, neither do I, have your fun with him and dump him somewhere...”

Silver teeth rubbed his hands together, “now we’re talking...”

Alex clip-clopped into the darkness, leaving Bucky surrounded by the blood-lusting men.


	8. Chapter 8

 

The idea of getting bludgeoned or having his throat slit were preferred to being leered at and touched by a gang of men. They were going to use him, by the sudden sex-fuelled pupils glued to him, and the intrigued murmurs he could guess in what way.

He’d rather die than get passed around, if these were his two options. Death or to be abused till he begged for death.

The chair was pulled backwards, and he fell to the ground, knees throbbing at the concrete. On his knees at crotch height, he felt suddenly vulnerable, more so than the times he’d been at Steve’s mercy.

If they tried putting anything in his mouth he was biting it; he would tear the shit out of any of them. It would speed things along; they were bound to beat him to death if he severed one of their cocks.

“I see why Steve would use ya kid...you’re quiet the looker...

“And you are not.” Bucky snarked back.

The man with the silver teeth gripped his chin, “That mouth of you will be the death of you.”

Good, that’s what he was hoping for, piss them off so they’d kill him, or at the very least knock him unconscious.

He was tied up, a man in front touching his face and doing his best to be intimidating, there was no stirring of arousal in his pants, only disgust. It was at least one good thing to know it wasn’t about being restrained, or at someone else’s mercy that got him going, it was all about Steve. Bucky’s body craved his touch and his alone.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and suck me off, eat me up.”

Silver-teeth unclipped his pants in front of Bucky’s face smirking to himself. The bulge in his underwear jolted and Bucky turned his nose up at it.

“That it? Gonna be a small meal...”

His words were met by rumbling laughter, the man in front reddened, in embarrassment or anger Bucky didn’t know, didn’t care; either would lead a man like that to killing him. He was being laughed at by the rest of his gang and he seethed with it, darting them venomous looks.

The backhand across Bucky’s face stung and made his hearing go all fuzzy and ringing like a bomb had detonated nearby. He forced himself not to wince, to smile crazily at the man that struck him instead.

“That all you got?”

Another fast slap had blood trickling from his lip, the warmth on his chin welcome on his chilled flesh. It was a reminder that he was getting closer to dying, the life literally running from his body, a small wound but he’d only just started pissing this guy off.

“You’ve done it now boy, no more easing you into this.”

Yes, his brain chanted, smack me about a bit-or a lot; hit me on the head till I feel nothing but numbness, detached pain like he was observing an event rather than feeling it.

He was kicked, his body timbered to the side and the man grabbed at him, rolled him over to his front and slammed his face to the floor. More dizziness, but not the detached, distant sensation he was hoping for. His skin was singing with pain, ribs and face but that stopped when nails scratched at him, trying to hook the top of his pants.

He was helpless, arms painfully joined at his lower back as he wiggled to escape the man’s clutch. He was slammed into the floor again, but yet again unconsciousness denied him its luxury. He swung his legs from side to side, flexed his hips to shake the guy off, he was slammed to the floor again and his body went weak and achy.

His pants were shoved down, a happy rumble vibrated the air behind; it had Bucky’s hair standing up.  
“See, just playing hard to get aren’t ya.”

Bucky bit into his bottom lip, aggravating the slice till it bled more. If this was gonna happen, he would not scream, he would not beg for it to end. This man wasn’t worthy of a reaction. He gave up fighting, didn’t even wince when nails scratched down him. His one goal was to stay quiet, as if he could feel what was happening, and then he’d tell the guy so, humiliate him till he just had to end Bucky’s life to get any respect back.

“Get. Off. Him.”

Three words. Not the three words of romantic movies and books, but three words that held ten times more meaning. That gravelly angry voice could only be Steve’s. Actions spoke louder than words, and Steve was there, in the stinking warehouse growling words across the darkness. He had come to save Bucky’s ass, or kill his rivals, Bucky wasn’t sure which but frankly didn’t care.

The man stood from his leery crouch, tugging Bucky with him, who went boneless, leaning into the bastard just to stay upright. His legs were jelly, body twitching and uncooperative.  
He was a human shield, held between the man and the shadows.

Guns were drawn but nobody dared fire, even when Steve strolled from the darkness no one broke the silence, it would be the death of all of them.

Steve wasn’t alone, Tony, Nat and Clint with him. He didn’t think it was possible for Clint to look terrifying but even his expression chilled Bucky’s bones let alone the one Steve was wearing. That was pure murderous and it didn’t relent, his stare was focussed, blinking not necessary for a man like him.

“Give him to me.”

Those four words sounded even sweeter and Bucky was pretty sure he made an embarrassing squeak after Steve said them.

The man gripping onto him loosened his hold, he wanted to let go, the men beside him were backing away, even with their guns drawn they were nervous of Steve, not wanting to be the closest person to him, the first one to die.

The arms around him uncoiled, there was hope in Bucky’s heart that the day wasn’t going to end in complete darkness, but the clip-clop of shoes echoed behind him, and the men ready to bolt gained some confidence when Alex appeared, clapping his hand in mock applause.

“How did you find us?”

Bucky had wondered the same but Steve seemed to have spies everywhere, always knew where he was even when he thought he was untraceable. Steve didn’t answer, a tried sigh came from him but that was his only reaction, bored by the predictable question.

“This doesn’t have to end in violence,” Alex muttered.

Steve wagged his finger in Bucky’s direction, Bucky’s heart ceased, close to stopping but the menacing finger wag wasn’t meant for him but the man holding him up.  
“He’s dying no matter what goes down.”

The shiver that rattled Bucky’s spine wasn’t his own but silver-teeth behind, there was a quiver to his breathing too, had there have been a puddle of yellow forming at his feet Bucky wouldn’t have blamed him. Even with Alex in the room, Steve hadn’t detached his glare from the guy that tried to force himself on Bucky.

Alex tugged at Bucky’s arm and he staggered towards him. The man behind staggered too and Bucky wasn’t sure who was holding who up anymore. He was captured by Alex’s arms instead and when Bucky flashed a look at silver-teeth all his aggressive bravado had vanished, replaced with pale skin and pin-pricks for eyes.

“Okay...as a gift to you...and to calm things down a notch...I give you Dave.”

That was his name, not the name Bucky assumed a mob member would have. Dave drained of all colour, a ghost, jittery and wailing, he twirled on the spot, bolted towards the darkness but Steve was quick, one shot with bull’s-eyes accuracy. Dave’s body went rigid as it fell, hitting the concrete with a wet slap. Nobody even checked him, they all watched it happen, moved their attention back to the situation at hand like it was routine, nothing out of the ordinary. Bucky was gasping from the suddenness. Brock had been shot in front of him months ago but he hadn’t seen the moment, this time he did and it was brutal and cold.

“Now that’s taken care of, let’s talk about our little trade.”  
Alex’s arms squeezed Bucky’s bruised ribs and he sagged forward with a grunt.  
“The Mondrian for your boy toy.”

The tension in the room rose with every second Steve didn’t respond. Alex fidgeted and Bucky’s wounded body moved with him. He hurt, his chest felt compressed and tight, his face burned with the slices and splits that had been inflicted by their brutal treatment. In fact the only noise, other than creasing fabric from nerves was the blood dripping from his chin. He was adding to the concrete canvas with his own blood signature. He’d already made a few pretty splats.

“The painting for him.” Steve said coldly and everyone from Alex’s side sagged with relief, the tension evaporated and there were even some small smiles, not mocking or jesting, but ones that said they were happy to be alive.

Steve flicked his head toward Tony and the other man retreated into the darkness. Returning a few minutes later with a case identical to the one Bucky first stole.  
It was Alex’s turn to flick his head at his men; none of them wanted to move but eventually one got the courage and took the case from Tony.

“Check it...”

Tony snapped the case open, showing the Mondrian to the room like they were in an auction bidding for it. Alex nodded happily; another head flick had the man returning with the case, getting back in his position.

“Give him to me.”

Bucky willed it, if he had the energy he would’ve fought to get out of Alex’s hold but he was so drained, he wasn’t going to be able to walk the few meters towards Steve, but he’d happily collapse in a heap on the floor once he was let go.

“Now!” Steve demanded and the tension ramped right back up. Alex wasn’t letting him go, was holding him tighter.  
Steve vibrated with rage, the lines of anger that cut through his skin were feral. He looked like a beast, ready to attack.

“Okay, okay,” Alex chuckled, one hand relaxing at Bucky’s waist and moving a way. It was over, had to be, Alex had the stupid painting, Bucky was alive, trade complete-

Alex shuffled, concealing what he was doing under the farce of letting Bucky go, Bucky saw the gun whip up, saw it centered dead on Steve and the shot rang out. Followed by another.

Bucky froze in horror as all hell broke loose, guns blaring, everyone shouting and Steve falling. Steve had been shot. Bucky had seen the blood flying through the air, spraying from his body. In the chest, right near his heart.

Bucky couldn’t process, delirious with worry, it couldn’t have happened, his beaten mind had to be wrong, there was no way that could’ve happened, no need for it. His eyes stung, he hadn’t blinked, couldn’t and not just blood was running down his face. He thought the worst outcome was him being raped or dying, but this was infinitely worse.

He was hauled backwards out of the building, brain spinning with the image of Steve’s leaking body, the triumphant laugh tickling close to his ear from Alex.

His heels were catching on the ground as he sagged into the man dragging him numb to the core. The Mondrian case was thrown in the backseat of a car while he was led to the back.  
“Get in.”

He stared back blankly, brain not recognising words, not translating them into meaning. The inability to reply was met by Alex taking two fists full of his t-shirt and forcing Bucky into the trunk.

The lid slammed down and all went dark. In the small confines of the trunk he could smell the sweat and blood on his body. The heat was stifling, the vibrating of the engine turned his stomach, but the moment in the warehouse played over and over. Steve had been shot, fatally shot. His body had gone rigid as he fell, just like the other guy’s had.

The energy was gone from Bucky’s body, too exhausted to kick out to escape; he didn’t see the point in it. He was jolted, bumped painfully into the sides. The car was screeching, lurching around the place and Bucky willed the damn thing to crash, crash and explode.

Death, he wanted it, he wanted it to be quick, couldn’t cope with knowing Steve was dead behind him, bleeding out on the floor.  
He thought his prayers had been answered when he felt suddenly light, like gravity was failing and letting him soar, if this was death it wasn’t so bad, it had a magical quality to it, floating away to nothing.

The odd weightless feeling stopped with a smashing sound and a jolt that gave him whiplash.  
It wasn’t the sound cars made when they crashed in films, not the crash of metal or glass exploding, more a hissing and the trunk got impossibly darker. Not only that but it was filling with coldness, there was wetness hitting Bucky’s face, blinded by the trunk but he could hear the rushing of water, it soaked his clothes fast, rising in the confined space.

He was trapped, water filling up and unable to escape. The trunk really was going to be his coffin; he wasn’t to be graced with a fast death but a slow lingering one where he drowned in the dark. It was no less than he deserved, his adrenaline need had led him there, and had killed Steve on the way.

He was terrified; adrenaline came back to him but it was unwelcome, it made him hyper aware and fearful. He was trapped, wanted to go as dignified and painless as he could but the adrenaline wouldn’t waver, his heart thundered, his brain was running a riot but those unconscious reactions were useless, they couldn’t save him, only made him realise this was it, this was it and it was going to be horrific.

Drowning was agony, there was no nice way to dress it up. He held his breath as long as he could, but the breath he was forced to take after his lungs had emptied, the one of pure water put his body in spasm, conflicting messages battling in his brain, the need to breathe but the pain for doing so when only water ran in. Breathing in water irritated his throat, burned up his nose till his body wanted it out, wanted him to expel what was going to kill him only he couldn’t, it was all around him. Panic, he lost all composure and rationality and screamed for his life, underwater. There was no sound, only more water filling him till his chest ached, till he felt like it concaved, fuck being dignified; he thrashed, scrunched his face till he didn’t look human anymore.

He was already in the dark, but somehow the black intensified, his head fuzzed, the sensation of his body gone, it still hurt but there was nothing left for his body to try. He shut his eyes, or at least he thought he did, his heart might well have stopped with his eyes open but he’d never know.  
That was it.

Then there was more pain, how could there possibly be more but this one was blistering in his lungs, pressure on his chest came in waves, all his bones compressed with each one and the fiery cramp continued in his chest, it ran up, felt like lava was in his throat. He needed it out and he vaguely knew his head was being turned and he was spluttering whatever was burning the shit out of him.

“Breathe Bucky-

And snarky retort of ‘he was god-damn trying’ was concealed by coughing and spluttering, desperate gasps for breath. There were arms cradling him; he couldn’t feel them but when he opened his eyes he saw them, bulging as they held him to a muscled chest. Bucky forced his head back, tilting made him wince but he needed to see Steve.

Concern shone bright in Steve’s eyes, he stared intently into each of Bucky’s. His hair was dripping onto Bucky’s face, the arms around him were damp, and both of them were soaked through.

The car, he had been trapped in the trunk. He tried to turn but the movement was feeble, rushing water, he could hear it behind him. He wasn’t there anymore but in Steve’s grip.

He sagged back into the arms relishing in the worry coming from Steve’s normally unbothered eyes. It was the most emotion he’d ever shown, he didn’t even have to speak, Bucky could see the concern, relief and hope all battling to be shown on Steve’s stone features.

Steve drew him into a hug, forcing Bucky’s head into his neck. It was the second time they had embraced, and this time Bucky was the one that didn’t reciprocate, had no strength in his arms at all and let himself be held. He sighed in contentment, shutting his eyes. He breathed the weak scent of Steve into his lungs to sooth them.

The next time he struggled to open his eyes he was in a car, still plastered to Steve’s chest. Steve’s chest where a bullet passed through. Bucky forced his heavy arm up, patting over Steve’s flesh, pressing weakly at his heart.  
“You were shot?”

He saw it, Alex shot him right in the heart, he fell to the floor; the memory played in Bucky’s head in slow-motion, just as heart-stopping as the first time.

Steve’s hand pressed Bucky’s to his chest, “bullet proof vest.”

Bucky shook his head and frowned, “No, blood, I saw it...”

Steve stretched his arm out for Bucky to see. A tie was wrapped around his bicep, blood was seeping through but its consistency was watery, not dark and pulsing, a small dribble.

“Flesh wound.” Steve added

Bucky was too tired to say more, dropped his head to Steve’s chest and stayed like that. He wasn’t embarrassed about it, snuggled impossibly deeper into the warmth of Steve’s body.

A woman bandaged his ribs, stitched his face and tapped compressions to it. He repeatedly startled to awareness, the pain killers Steve had made him swallow were making him sleepy, droop as he was fixed up. He wasn’t in a hospital, it was only a room decked out like a hospital. Steve had his own private doctor at his beck and call.

The floor tugged him towards it and he could no longer resist its magnetism, luckily Steve spotted his drooping body and put his chest in the way of the fall keeping him upright.

“He needs rest, Steve.”

Steve responded but all Bucky felt was the rumble coming through his chest. He was pretty sure Steve picked him up after that, he made a mental note to deny all knowledge it happened later, but in that moment he clung on to him.

Steve arranged him in a bed, it really did feel like a soft, floaty cloud and it smelled good, so good Bucky moaned when he nosed the pillows. It was clean, smelled like Steve and that scent was more than welcome.

The light clicked off and Bucky didn’t like it one bit, he surged up on the bed even though his ribs creaked.  
“On, on-

“What?”

“The light!”

Another click and the room was bathed in artificial light, Steve stood in the doorway, expression unreadable, the more Bucky stared back the more blurry he got.

“Rest, Bucky.”

He shut his eyes, his inner lids were pink, and it was so much better than black, the black of the trunk made him shudder. He breathed the scent of Steve deep in his lungs comforted by him even though he wasn’t physically there anymore. He drifted off, body relaxing into the mattress, in need of rest.

It only felt like a few minutes had passed when he felt lips at the back of his neck, skimming his flesh. Steve was spooning him again, naked and his arousal was obvious, pressing into Bucky’s lower back leaving wet trails.

Bucky’s whole back scorched from Steve’s skin, but it wasn’t unwanted, he leaned back into him, enjoyed being manhandled. Steve’s hands were roaming everywhere, gentle over his ribs, feather-light on his bruised face as were his kisses.

Steve sensed he was awake and stilled his hands, the light was still on and Bucky cracked an eye open and turned his head to see Steve hovering behind him. There was hunger in his eyes, sadness too. Bucky offered the side of his neck and Steve understood his desire, leaned in and sucked hard at the flesh to mark him. One bruise he would like looking in the days to come unlike the rest of him that looked like a battered aubergine.

The more Steve touched him, the louder his breathing became, puffing noisily at Bucky’s neck. Teeth started nipping, scoring gently over his shoulder before a tongue traced the marks. Steve rutted against him, making a noise of pure frustration.

“I should let you rest...but I can’t...not yet.”

A pillow was shoved near his crotch before Steve rolled him on to it. His ass propped up on the bed.

“Steve?”

He didn’t answer, but crawled down Bucky’s naked body. Dave had left welts, nail marks down his lower back when he was trying to get in Bucky’s pants.

Steve hissed and Bucky knew he had seen them. The noise wasn’t sympathy or pity but pure outrage. He moved back up, lying flat on top of Bucky to speak in his ear.

“Did you not think playing for time was a good idea?”

He hadn’t even considered it, had wanted to die as quick as possible rather than be violated sexually.

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” Bucky darted a confused look over his shoulder, “how did you know where I was?”

Steve moved his lips to Bucky’s neck, biting the flesh and tugging it about with his teeth. He let go, nipping at Bucky’s ear before he spoke.  
“I keep track of what’s mine.”

He squeezed the scruff of Bucky’s neck, thumb moving in firm little circles. That was when Bucky felt it, the knock against one of his vertebra. Something beneath the skin that shouldn’t have been there, that he hadn’t even known was there.

“You put a chip in me like some dog?”

Steve removed his hand and crowded over Bucky, biting at the back of his neck firmly. He let go and leaned back on his heels  
“I tagged my Antelope to keep an eye on him...That’s what people do when they find something rare and interesting.”

He shuffled down the bed, straddling Bucky’s knees and glaring daggers at the offending ass cheeks again. His fingers pressed into the grooves Dave had made, he dug his nails in hard, the pain was a fresh burn, but Bucky preferred it knowing they were marks from Steve.

Fresh grazes were etched in his body, Steve kissed them afterwards, softly almost as if he was apologising for having to do it.  
“Don’t tense up, you’ll do damage to yourself.”

Bucky mouthed the word ‘what’ to the pillow, not knowing what Steve was on about. His ass cheeks were pulled apart, and he jolted at Steve’s tongue on him, his head colliding with the headboard.

Steve was undeterred, kissing firmer when Bucky had nowhere to escape to. He was told not to tense but he couldn’t help it, Steve was licking at him, sucking there. Steve was eager to do it, desperate even and after the momentary shock Bucky relaxed into it, his body turned to putty Steve was manipulating, he squeezed and massaged his ass cheeks while he licked and kissed the intimate area. It felt fucking amazing, the nerves down there were packed closely together, had never experienced being touched by someone like this. He squirmed restlessly, half of him singing with pleasure, other half out of his depth.

Bucky bit into the pillow ashamed at the noise he wanted to make but Steve saw, stopping to yank Bucky’s gag away. He went to bite his lip instead, but he winced at the sting.

“Stop denying yourself, Bucky. I wanna hear how you enjoy it.”

Steve wiggled back down the bed, continuing to kiss Bucky open.

He gave up the pretence and shuddered with the feeling. His moans strangled through his lips, growing more hoarse and needy. He sounded like a dying animal to his own ears but each time he made a noise Steve matched it with his own muffled cry. The sensation was overwhelming and before he knew what he was doing he was pushing back, encouraging Steve to go deeper and the other man was enthused at Bucky giving in to his desires.

Steve hadn’t physically tied him up, but he was powerless to move, arms trapped under his body with Steve pressing him into the mattress, his humping of the pillow was feeble, more pathetic than anything, but his hips were working on autopilot.

He felt fizzy, detached, drunk with what Steve was doing. He didn’t hold back his orgasm, daren’t tense and destroy the pleasure. He let it wash over him, messing up the pillow under him when he released into the fabric.

Steve grumbled happily, surging up and lining himself up. Bucky was still pulsing when he pushed inside and he reared up in surprise only for Steve to push him back down.  
“Relax, don’t fight me.”

He didn’t want to; it was just his immediate reaction to having something hot and thick shoved up his ass. Steve brushed the sweet spot and he was flying high on ecstasy again, whole lower body buzzing and tingly.  
“Shit, Steve---

Steve was growling, thrusting as deep as he could before pulling out slow and diving back in. Power and control and Bucky flailed with each thrust, whining softly into the mattress, his cheek was smeared with dribble, mouth having been hanging open for a few minutes.

Steve leaned down teeth clamping down on the back of Bucky’s neck as he finished with fast, angled rocking of his hips. The king of the jungle claiming him with firm thrusts and firmer bites. Steve was the only man he would ever submit to and he did so with a whine, drowned out by a growl from Steve’s lips.

Steve collapsed down, massive body crushing Bucky to the sweaty sheets beneath. He was consumed by Steve, owned by him. He never liked the thought of settling down, saw himself as a lady’s man with only casual hook-ups to keep things exciting, but Steve had conquered him. He knew he only wanted Steve, hadn’t been with a woman since they met the first time. Steve really had ruined sex for him in the best kind of way.

He drifted to sleep happily, no pain, spent and blissed out with Steve gripping on to him. He shifted him around to clean him up before bringing him to his chest.

 He fell asleep happy and not aching, but woke up feeling like complete trash. Sleep was evil, he groaned to himself, wondering who was straggling a cat before he realised he was making that awful noise.

He stretched his limbs out before regretting it and hissing in pain. He glared down at his torso, blotches of bruises poked out from the bandages. His throat burned, but didn’t have the horrible aftertaste of vomit. It was raw inside, and he clutched at his neck, shuffling up the bed.

Not his bed, it was massive, luxurious sheets, a mattress that moulded around his body and soothed his aching muscles, not like the one at his apartment which felt like lying on the floor. It smelled of Steve, strongly, and Bucky vaguely put the pieces of his memory together.

They had been together in the bed, they’d had sex with no restraints, physically or emotionally and it had felt so fucking good, but just like last time he woke up alone, the side where Steve was lying cold to the touch.

The bedside table had a glass of water and a white pill, Bucky snatched it up desperately and he swallowed, wincing and gripping his neck as it made its painfully slow descent. It took twenty minutes to work, and the numbing effect was gradual, he barely knew it was happening but then he took a deeper breath and his lungs didn’t shrivel with pain.

The room had a floor to ceiling window and Bucky hobbled towards it, looking out and immediately backing away at the dizzying height. Was it even possible for a floor to have a thousand levels? He opened the closet but there were no clothes, the drawers were empty too except for a sparkly pair of underwear. Bucky held them up in his hands and gave them the evil eye, there was no way he was putting them on. Gold and glittery with ‘My Boy’ on them. He was going commando then...

He yanked the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around his body like a toga.

Steve sat at the breakfast bar, back to Bucky, seemingly unaware he had stumbled into the room looking like he came from a time machine.  
“You should be resting...”

Bucky stopped trying to creep and straightened up.  
“I can’t sleep anymore...”

Steve swivelled round on his stool; eyebrow’s shooting to his hairline at Bucky’s outfit.  
“Did feeding you an apple go to your head?”

Bucky glared down at the sheet, refusing to blush. The sheet was better than the god-awful underwear that was on offer. He glided across the room, ignoring Steve all together. If he was forced to look like an idiot, he would own looking like an idiot.

As soon as he sat down his eyes went wide at the painting pinned opposite on the wall.  
“The Mondrian.”

Steve wagged his finger at the painting, “you did make a very good copy though...there’s revenue I haven’t tapped into yet... Forging paintings and getting real ones...the Mona Lisa is on my to-do list...”

“You gave them the fake?”

He didn’t mean to sound disappointed, the outcome had worked in all their favours but he thought Steve had valued him, in reality he balanced his life against nothing of worth. If he hadn’t have made the fake, Steve wouldn’t have shown up---

“Hey! I was coming for you no matter what.”

Steve’s brow dented, his forehead creased and his bright eyes beckoned to Bucky’s. Bucky forced a smile in reply, he knew it didn’t reach his eyes but he at least tried to look like he believed Steve.  
“I didn’t expect Alex to try to take you.”

Steve’s hands curled into fists and his jaw twitched; he might not have said Bucky meant something to him, but his reactions were telling Bucky so.

“He’s dead though...right?”

A puff of furious air from Steve’s nose had Bucky jumping in fright. He pressed his palm on his manic heart.  
“He got away, Bucky. It was between saving you from the trunk or drowning him in the water.”

“’m sorry.”

That was all Bucky could think to say and after a few seconds Steve’s straining fists relaxed till his palms were flat on the table.

A weary sigh escaped his lips, “now you’ve given me a bigger problem.”

Bucky waited expectantly, flicking his chin out for Steve to continue. Steve wasn’t the kinda guy to be rushed and only continued once Bucky stopped trying to coax him to say more.

“I’ve shown the world the value of you, they thought it before, I tried sending you away so they wouldn’t know....but now they’ve seen how far I’d go to get you back.”

Bucky flicked his chin out at the painting in front of them. Not as much as the painting, he felt a bitterness for it again, like it was his rival.  
“The painting, it was a fake, you gave them the fake to get me back....doesn’t tell them I mean shit, only that you’re clever and deceived them.”

Steve rolled his eyes, another irritated sigh escaped him.  
“Bucky...I dived into a river to save you, that kind of thing doesn’t go unnoticed.”

For some reason his addled brain hadn’t put all those pieces together, then suddenly it clicked and he stuttered out his words.  
“Oh....yeah...thanks-

Steve held his hand up and Bucky’s jaw snapped shut.

“Don’t thank me...I still don’t know what’s going to happen to you...do you know how many people are out there that want revenge on me, haven’t found a way of doing it until now? They will deface you, skin and rape you. They won’t kill you, Bucky; they’ll torture you, keep you alive for years and hurt you, all to get at me. You can’t comprehend what real agony is, but they’ll make you feel it, you won’t be able to think or feel anything else.”

It would be like those minutes in the trunk all over again, fierce agony and hopelessness, but drawn out. He shuddered at what Steve was saying.

“What happens now then?”

Steve turned away, refusing to look at Bucky while he spoke.

“I have two choices...I keep you, as mine, here...bring a sweet little Antelope into my den forever....or I kill you, do it before they get their hands on you; I won’t drag it out, I’ll do it fast, you won’t even register the sting. It will all be over.”

Bucky opened his mouth to choose, but Steve tapped his finger on the countertop in front of them and Bucky’s jaw snapped shut.

“I don’t listen to Antelopes remember...it’s my decision.”

Bucky pressed his lips together, his head bobbed down on his shoulders as he waited for Steve to decide. There was the obvious more favourable option, the one that had adrenaline spiking and his heart fluttering against the cold acceptance of death. He knew one thing though, if Steve chose to kill him he wasn’t going to fight it, wouldn’t try to escape; he’d close his eyes and wait for the slit across his neck-

“Shut your eyes.”

Hope dissolved to nothing; Steve had chosen the easiest solution, he was a liability after all, got himself kidnapped, was the reason Steve had been shot.

“Look at me.” He whispered. It was the first time he had asked Steve for anything, and he turned albeit reluctantly and granted Bucky his last wish.

He stared long and deep into Steve’s eyes one last time, analysing the detail so when he shut his own he would still see them when he died. They were beautiful when they weren’t glaring with anger. Blue with swirls of green-

“Close your eyes.” Steve said again, moving his fingers to softly close Bucky’s lids. He shuddered at the gentle touch, eyes heavy with Steve’s finger tips pressing down.

“Take a deep breath, Bucky.”

He did, pushing his chest out, breathing in air for the last time. He tilted his neck, giving Steve a better angle to cut it. It would be fast, he trusted that Steve would make it quick and as painless as possible. He remembered the man in the warehouse, how he had fallen like dead weight with a slapping sound. He was about to do the same but drop on Steve’s feet, leave a bloody stain on the perfect white floor, maybe Steve would look at it fondly and he’d remember the exhilarating game they played with each other.

“Breathe out, Bucky.”

He did slowly, forcing himself to relax, making it easy for Steve and himself.

The pain never came but warm lips did, meeting his unresponsive ones. Steve kissed him slow and sure. Bucky had calmed his body to the point of paralysis. He was fixed to the floor, mouth unable to work and kiss back. Steve nipped at his lips, pulling them into his mouth.

All the stuff they had done, but this was the first time their mouths had touched; first kiss and Bucky was being a moron and not kissing back.

Eventually he gained control of himself and kissed back eagerly, chasing Steve’s mouth, letting their tongues dance together. Steve’s hands were in his hair and he wrapped his arms around Steve’s back, clinging on. Steve slowed, teasing Bucky with soft kisses, drawing back when Bucky tried to turn them into more. He didn’t want to stop; it was gentler than he thought Steve was capable of. Steve’s lips and mouth were soft and slick and Bucky couldn’t get enough, needing more and his eagerness had Steve’s hand in his hair tugging harder, pants of breath noisily escaping him. If Steve was a beast he was nearing losing control, the gentle approach would still be forgotten under passion but before that happened Bucky had to be sure. He pulled his mouth away with a gasp, holding Steve’s shoulder so he wouldn’t collapse.

“This-this isn’t some kiss of death kinda thing right...ya ’know mafia stuff...”

He was spewing his thoughts; he flushed hot at the words he’d said, avoiding looking at Steve, just glaring at the painting on the wall behind for some help. Even the Mondrian flashed red embarrassed for him.

Then Steve laughed, the first laugh Bucky had heard from him, the first smile from him too and he was transfixed by it. Steve’s lips tilted upwards, not in aggression but amusement, his cheeks rounded to apples and his eyes narrowed but not with fury, with glee. He looked younger, normal almost.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bucky blurted, but he couldn’t look away, Steve looked hot with the whole menacing scowls and the indifference, but when he smiled, when he looked happy it made Bucky’s heart flutter, had an odd feeling fizzling in Bucky’s insides. Intimidating Steve was sexy, but he loved looking at Steve when he smiled. He was addicted after seeing just the one.

Just in case Bucky didn’t understand, Steve pushed their mouths together again, and backed him towards the bedroom. His feet stamped down on the sheet as they went, and it fell to the floor and Bucky was completely naked being cornered in Steve’s den.

“I’m keeping you.”

Those words were far better than ‘I love you’ and Bucky grinned stupidly back until Steve’s smile dropped and his devouring expression came over his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be shy come say hi <3 Make my day, come say hey <3...[tumblr](http://cookie-book-took.tumblr.com)  
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